


Moths to a Flame

by TellCosy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Frisk, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood, Complicated Relationships, Creepy, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Female Frisk, Gore, Historical, Horror, Mental Health Issues, Monsters, Multi, Mystery, Occult, Old Gods, Polyamory, Possession, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Strong sexual themes, Surreal, cosmic horror, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 209,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellCosy/pseuds/TellCosy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a hole on Mount Ebott. It wasn't there before.</p>
<p>Frisk finds a gaping hole where there had been only grass before. There is something inside. She is going to find out what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Originally inspired by the HorrorTale--now Undertomb--AU over at [ under-tomb.tumblr.com. ](http://under-tomb.tumblr.com) Warning: graphic images, nsfw 18+ blog

There was a hole.

It wasn’t there before.

You would know if it had been; you’d been combing this mountain for over a year, patrolling for the sisters in the Home. You would have noticed a hole this big right away. It was big enough for an elephant to disappear in without a trace. No—more like two or three elephants.

You stood on the lip of it, staring down into the darkness. Where could this hole have possibly come from? Was there an earthquake in the middle of the night? No, you hadn’t felt anything, and even if you hadn’t, one of the sisters surely would have said something about it. Was it a natural collapse? It was a possibility. But the shape of it was so symmetrical. It was a perfect circle.

You walked the perimeter, peering down, the urge to jump in licking at the back of your mind. That was normal, though. You always got that feeling while standing on the edge of any tall drop-off. Sometimes you’d stand on the bell tower and look down into the courtyard of the Home, your legs trembling with barely restrained desire. You always thought about how you could just—jump. You’d soar through the air like a bird with clipped wings, plummeting until you met the ground. You’d seen the body of someone who had fallen that far before. Or, really, it was more accurate to say you’d seen the _bits_ of the body. They had leapt from the Eiffel Tower and had crashed to the ground right before you and your mother.

That had been the first time you’d tasted someone else’s blood.

You licked your lips at the memory, humming with confusion as you knelt down, fingertips brushing the blades of grass on the edge. Where _had_ this hole come from? Had someone come through with a team of people and dug while you were busy hunting at the foot of the mountain?

No, there was no way this could have been dug with spades and hands. It went down far too long, and if it had been dug by a team of people, wouldn’t you see the remnants of their party? How would they have even got back out? There were no ropes tied to the trees surrounding you.

You stood again, brushing off your duster. You took another look for any sign of digging tools left behind, but there was nothing.

Just this hole.

You stroked your hand along your jaw, eyebrows knitted. You dipped your hand into your trouser’s pocket and fingered the pocket watch there absently. You continued your patrol around the perimeter for another few steps, before shaking your head. You didn’t understand how it could happen, but it simply must have been natural causes.

You had no other idea what it could be.

**Time to go.**

You ran your fingers through your hair, sighing with disgust at the slick, oily residue that remained on your hands. You took your pocket watch out and glanced down at the time. Oh, yes, of course, it was certainly time to leave. You were going to be a bit late back, in fact. The sisters would be on watch for you from the doorway, no doubt. You shook yourself out of your stupor, turning your face to the setting sun. You needed to be quick about yourself if you wanted to get any supper before bed.

You set off, making a mental note to ask the sisters if they had felt any odd rumblings of the earth. You nicked the trees with your penknife as you went, to remind yourself of the path back to the hole.

When you stepped through the gates of the Home, there was indeed a group of sisters waiting for you, fingering their rosaries with nervous eyes. The moment they saw you, though, they launched into their usual verbal lashings, scolding you for your lack of care. You were suitably penitent, and after they all got their protests out, they agreed that you should have at least a bit of food before you retired.

You ate your food like a clockwork toy, your hand bringing the bread to your mouth without much conscious input. Your mind was on the hole, and how it could have formed without you noticing. You were up and down that mountain constantly, day and night. There was no way someone had slipped past you. You were good at your job.

**Don’t think about it.**

You wouldn’t think about it anymore.

…

Yes, you would.

**Of course you will.**

Bedtime came, and with the snick of your bolt lock sliding into place, you turned to your cold, barren room. Your boot heels clicked against the stone floor as you went directly to your bed, sitting on the edge, the wood digging into your thighs. You sat there in the silence until you heard the matron go past your doorway, turning off the gas lamps as she went. You knew she was aware of your malady, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave until everyone was in bed.

You supposed you just wanted them safe and settled before you left them to go on your wanderings. You needed to know they wouldn’t be attacked while you were gone.

At least, attacked by something you could feasibly protect them against.

But there were two guards to protect them from the things you couldn’t handle, one of them always awake while the other slept. The Home was never too careful anymore, not after the War had begun, taking the men far away.

You were grateful you’d been sent here, after the years of terror and torture you’d suffered while in the south. The sisters understood your plight. They understood who you were. They didn’t try to change you. They didn’t shove medicine down your throat, only for you to vomit it back up, again and again. They didn’t lock you away in the darkness when you had your fits.

Not that you minded the darkness, you thought as you slipped the box of matches out of your drawer and lit the small lantern beside your bed. It had been more of a personal affront than an actual punishment. The thought behind it had made your blood boil.

**If you hated darkness, you’d be feeling a lot more than hysteria right now.**

That was true enough.

You picked up the lantern and slipped out of your window, leaping to the ground. You turned your eyes to the rising moon, its fat, russet face shining down on you.

Your feet found the path, and you were soon at the hole once more.


	2. How Far?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How far does it go...?

You knelt over the hole, your lantern lowered as far as your arm would reach.

Nothing.

It was black as pitch in there. Your lamp did _nothing_ to break the thick dark. It simply illuminated the space around it. The rest of the light was swallowed without revealing anything that waited below.

What in God’s name was this?

An owl called out in the night, and you looked up to see its eyes surveying you from a tall branch. That was unusual. You’d been in the region at night for years and you’d never encountered an owl quite that large before. You stood up and its wings unfurled, revealing its body to be that of a grotesquely large moth, with another set of drooping, hollow eyes that were definitely more human than beast. It swooped toward you and you stumbled back, your foot slipping and kicking out from underneath you. You fell on your bottom as the creature dove past you into the hole, its red-stained beak chittering with fright.

You sat for several tense moments, your hand aching from the scrape of the rocks and your foot dangling over the edge. Your breath was fast and hard, and your eyes wide.

Oh, _balls_.

**So skittish.**

You really couldn’t be blamed for your reaction. You might have become a little complacent in your time in the Home, but you’d like to know how exactly you were supposed to reckon on something like _that_.

**A hole shows up on the mountain out of nowhere, and you thought it would be business as usual?**

Touché.

**See how deep it goes.**

Hauling yourself back to a careful kneeling position, you pick up a pebble, thumbing it thoughtfully. You didn’t exactly want to be hurling stones at wildlife, but firstly, the creature you’d seen was very obviously unnatural, and secondly, you weren’t really _aiming_ for it. You were just…experimenting.

You held your hand over the pit and released the pebble, watching it hurtle downwards until it was swallowed by the darkness.

It never met the ground.

You counted to ten before a chill ran down your spine. How far down did this hole go?

You picked up another rock, bigger this time. Maybe the pebble had fallen on soft moss and hadn’t been large enough to make a sound.

You dropped it in. Waited.

Thirty seconds, and nothing.

God in heaven, was the mountain even big enough to house a cavern that deep?

**No.**

Fingers trembling softly, you searched the area for a boulder large enough that there was no way you could ever miss the sound of it hitting any material, be it soft or hard. You found one not far away and held it close to your chest as you stomped back. This was it—if you couldn’t hear _this_ hitting the ground, then you surely knew something was odd.

You tossed it as far into the centre of the hole as you could, and crouched once more, waiting with bated breath.

One, two, three, four, five…

…eighteen, nineteen, twenty…

…forty-eight, forty-nine…

After you reached the minute-and-a-half mark, you were fingering the silver cross and blue opal pendant under your shirt. The mountain wasn’t that tall. You supposed it could be a very long shaft that continued into the earth itself, but…without hitting anything? Anything at all?

You were getting a very bad feeling about this. You stood and backed off, keeping your eyes on the pit. It was silly, you knew, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It was defying any logic you attempted to apply to it, and it made you uncomfortable.

**Leave.**

You left, scooping up your lantern and heading quickly down the mountain. You didn’t want to look back. You were afraid you might see something.

**You shouldn’t worry.**

You knew that. You still would. You didn’t like surprises, especially if it was something potentially dangerous. You couldn’t tell yet if the hole _was_ dangerous, but it certainly wasn’t proving itself to be benign beyond doubt.

You thought over what your next move should be. Should you inform the sisters? Should you simply observe?

**Who are you trying to fool?**

Ah, there was little point in consideration, when you already knew what your next move would be.

You climbed back in your window and extinguished your lantern, sitting against your headboard. You wouldn’t sleep. But then, you never did. The doctors had given your condition a particularly intimidating name and had told your family you had very little time left before you would be dead.

When a few years passed, and it became clear you would not be taken by the Lord anytime soon, you had been removed from hospital and sent into your aged aunt’s care far to the north. You’d settled into St. Agatha’s Home for Wayward Girls quickly enough, though your aunt contributed nothing to your wellbeing. Mostly because she’d died almost as soon as you’d arrived.

That was when you’d first been properly introduced to your friend.

**Is that how you really feel about me? I’m flattered.**

True, you weren’t sure how accurate that description was. You felt perhaps it was more…that of an owner and their pet. Or a master and slave.

**Either works. Though you’re not quite obedient enough for those, really.**

You weren’t. You wanted to be, sometimes. But mostly you had your own ideas about what should be done for everyone’s wellbeing.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t take ideas into consideration.

It just meant you weren’t likely to obey any direct commands.

**You could be something truly great if I wasn’t so generous.**

You didn’t doubt that, at all. But you felt the camaraderie and partnership of your current situation was a better fit for the both of you. More…beneficial.

**Perhaps. At least you’re not fool enough to think I’m a demon.**

You weren’t sure why your aunt ever tried to exorcise your friend. You knew she was religious, but exorcism took very little into account before leaping into dangerous territory. She hadn’t succeeded, of course, but you knew how miserable she must have been to order something so drastic.

**Of course she was miserable. She never left the Home.**

You chuckled. Yes, your aunt had been much like your mother in that regard. You had caused your mother endless amounts of grief with your wandering ways as a child, until she’d died in childbirth.

You realised you couldn’t remember her face anymore.

**You shouldn’t think about it.**

So you didn’t. Instead, you set to work on fashioning another rope ladder for yourself, mostly to keep your hands busy. You made sure to tie large, sturdy knots in it, humming an old lullaby to yourself as you worked. You would need to make sure you wouldn’t slip and lose your footing at the worst possible time when you returned to the hole in the morning.

You softly sang to yourself through the night until the sun kissed your face, your heart buried deep underground and your mind on the puzzle in the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Frisk enters the hole.
> 
> I...have a tumblr? It's at...tellcosy.tumblr.com?? There's nothing on it???


	3. Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The skittering dark.

You returned after morning prayers.

You knew you were neglecting your other jobs by heading straight to the hole, but something about it was drawing you in. The thought of it had wormed through your skull and made a home deep in your brain. You couldn’t extricate it now, even if you wanted to.

You didn’t want to.

**You’ve always been such a dreamer.**

You wouldn’t say that, necessarily. You were more like an empty vessel, ready to be filled with purpose. You had the drive to succeed. You always had. But you had soon realised the fruitlessness of determination when you stood in a room with no doors or windows. You had wilted in the south, shrivelled into yourself with nowhere to grow. But up here, you had begun to flourish.

You had found your purpose.

You gripped your rope ladder tight between your hands, the fibres creaking with tension. You had another bundle of rope slung over your shoulder, to be used as anchoring. Just in case.

After the War had kicked off, the Home had been left defenceless. Many of the men in the district had been drafted, only leaving behind those who were…less than savoury. The first time there had been a break-in, you’d been wandering the halls, content to stay inside for once. You’d heard a crash in one of the women’s rooms and then screams. You’d acted on instinct, running to where the sounds originated and bursting in on a horrific scene. There was a man, hunched over one of the Home’s wards and…he…he was…

**Why do you insist on remembering such things?**

You remembered them so you would never forget why you were here. You could have left many, many times. Your feet needed to roam. You needed to walk the hills—feel the darkness on your skin, the moon in your eyes. You were never happier than when you had those things. But there were people who needed you in the Home. There were people for you to protect.

**Such wanderlust. Soothes my soul.**

You thought about that as you wrapped both of your lengths of rope around a tree close to the edge of the hole. You didn’t think your friend had a soul.

**Nonsense. I have yours.**

You smiled as you slipped the circle of rope over your head and down around your waist, tightening it over your waistcoat. You knew it was dangerous to have a binding like this around you while descending freely, but it was better to potentially break _something_ than to break _everything_ if something went wrong.

And you were almost certain something was going to go wrong.

A hole like that—with the creature that flew into it—it wasn’t normal. You probably shouldn’t even be considering going in there, but you needed to see how far it went. You needed to see if anything was down there. And if so, why?

You tossed the ladder down the hole and watched as it fell taut, pulled by its own weight. You took a deep breath through your nose, steeling yourself for the descent. You tried to tell yourself that you would likely find nothing. You’d found caves in the other mountains surrounding the Home, but there was never anything interesting inside. Just pale, bloodless creatures that skittered from you as soon as you neared.

You thought of the moth-owl. What if that thing was down there, waiting to ambush you? What would you do if it did? You had your knives, true. But you didn’t exactly _want_ to kill it. It had seemed more like a deformed animal than a monster. A goblin, at worst.

If you could avoid killing, you would.

Your friend laughed, but said nothing.

You shook yourself and knelt to take the rope ladder, testing its strength. It could definitely hold you; you were muscular, but slight. Though you’d been able to pass for a man since the War broke out, you were frequently ridiculed for your smallness of stature. It had got you into some particularly rough encounters before, with ruffians who assumed you were infirm and therefore unable to protect yourself.

**It was fun to teach them otherwise.**

You were slightly ashamed to admit the truth in that. Giving one last tug on the rope, you edged yourself off the side, clasping your legs around the knots. You shimmied down into the hole, your lantern attached to your belt, illuminating your immediate path. You clung desperately to each knot, taking your time to peer around you after each one. You kept glancing up to the sunlight from the surface, the halo leaving its mark in your eyes as you turned back to the darkness below.

Sooner than you thought, you had reached the end of the rope ladder, your foot slipping into the loop at the bottom for stability. You held a rope in either hand, swaying gently from your body’s suspended weight. You worked to keep your breath slow and steady as your heart pounded against your ribs. You couldn’t see the bottom of the cave from where you dangled, nor the walls. The air was so close and warm, though, you might as well have been in a womb.

And you couldn’t see _anything_.

But you could _hear_ something.

There was a low, thrumming sound, much like a ship’s turbine, layered with papery whispers, as though leaves rattled in the wind. You strained to listen for any words over the sound of your own heartbeat, but it was loud as thunder now, your body betraying you with its instinctive fear. You clamped your lips tight together to keep your breath under control. It would be the worst possible time for you to panic and bring on a fit. You definitely wouldn’t survive, this far into the mountain. No one would ever hear your screams.

 **You aren’t going to lose control. Don’t panic.** You exhaled through pursed lips. You were fine. It was eerie down here, but you were _fine_.

…

What was that?

**What was that?**

There was something close.

You could feel its presence, though you still couldn’t see a thing.

The rope swung precariously as you whipped around to see any hint of what the presence was. You shuddered with dread.

**It’s touching you.**

You froze, a scream caught in your throat, at the delicate, tickling touch of something against your leg. You couldn’t look. Oh, God in heaven, you couldn’t _look_. What was it? You couldn’t tell. There was more than one thing touching you at once—pointed and hard. It left a trail like a spider’s, though there was none of the unpredictability. It was definitely heading up your thigh. Your body began to tremble furiously, sweat trickling down your back despite the season.

**What are you _doing_? Wake up!**

You couldn’t move. There was some primal force keeping you perfectly still.

**GO.**

The command woke you from your petrification and without another moment’s hesitation, you scrambled back up the rope, slipping several times in your hurry to ascend. A scream clawed at the back of your teeth as you imagined being chased, some dark horror climbing after you. Adrenaline surged through you as you reached the top, planting your hands in the soil and lifting yourself from the pit. You rolled away from it before turning back, your eyes wide.

Nothing.

There was nothing behind you.

You gasped for breath as your arm muscles spasmed, protesting your abuse of them. You hadn’t meant to strain yourself, but you could hardly be blamed. No one would have done any differently, if they’d been touched by some unknown creature in the dark.

Though…now that you were in the sunlight, and it was clear nothing had followed you out, you felt slightly foolish for your reaction.

You hadn’t…imagined it, had you?

**No. It wasn’t your imagination.**

You stayed there on the ground long enough to catch your breath and for your arms to stop twitching. Your head swam and throbbed, but that was to be expected. You’d been very close to having a fit.

**Probably best to leave now.**

You huffed as you stood, your eyes still on the gaping maw. Yes, it was probably best to leave, despite the wave of curiosity that crashed over you once more. _What_ _was in there_? What had touched you? Why did nothing about this make any sense? Why did it cause you such panic, when you’d faced so much worse?

**Have you no sense of self-preservation?**

You thought you had a pretty well-developed sense of self-preservation, but that certainly wasn’t stopping you from already wanting to go back in. It was driving you _mad_ , not knowing the answer to the mysteries of this hole. You wanted to throw yourself inside and explore every inch of it. Ferret out its secrets.

**Despite your stupidity, it is time to leave.**

You fumbled around in your pocket for your pocket watch, ready to argue that you still had time to puzzle this out before you absolutely _must_ do your other duties. What you found there, instead, stilled your heart dead.

You pulled out the foreign object that absolutely _had not_ been in your pocket before your descent, holding it at eye-level with shaking fingers.

It was a pebble.

No.

It was _the_ pebble.

The one you had thrown in just the night before.

It had the same vein running down it in a jagged bolt-shape.

It had the same smooth, water-worn texture.

But it certainly wasn’t the same shape anymore.

No.

Tiny nicks covered the rock, forming it into the shape of a love heart.

You could see clearly what must have been used to carve this, and your skin crawled with disgust.

Pointed. Sharp. Hard.

Just like the presence had felt in the hole.

You felt your gorge rise, staring at the heart.

You turned, and ran the whole way back to the Home.

The matron was waiting for you, and you told her everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Frisk speaks to someone about the hole.
> 
> Toomboolar: tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm never off it anymore? I was supposed to write three chapters today and wrote half of one? Save me from the nothing I've become?


	4. There's Something Down There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A light...a light...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this weird little horror story. It's going so slow that I pretty much assumed no one was going to enjoy it, but I'm SO GLAD you are! Thank you everyone!
> 
> jfc I hope i don't disappoint. o.o;;

With the moonrise, you felt the call.

You were sitting on your bed, your back ramrod-straight, hands on your knees, eyes staring vacantly at the blank stone wall. The heart-shaped pebble was pressed between your palm and your wool trousers. You could feel it digging into your leg, a reminder of what had happened that morning.

A reminder that you most certainly should _not_ go back to that place.

Your leg began to bounce.

The matron passed by your room, and you heard her whispering the Lord’s Prayer. You crossed yourself habitually, unconsciously.

You were alone. 

Everyone else was in bed.

There was nothing keeping you from leaving.

Other than the advice given by the matron.

And your own instincts.

The only reason you _did_ have for going was morbid curiosity.

So that really made the decision for you, didn’t it?

…

You were off your bed like a shot, heading straight for your window.

**Are you serious?**

You hesitated, your hand on the sill. Your friend was right. You really shouldn’t go. Whether or not you had imagined the touch, or whether or not you had somehow just mistaken the heart pebble for the one from the day before, it didn’t matter. That hole was bringing out something ugly in you—a desperate, grasping obsession. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it since you had found it. Part of you wanted to stop—wanted to forget what you’d seen. But it was a very small part, engulfed by the massive desire to return.

Your hands twitched with indecision before you slid open the window. The act of giving in gave you a physical sense of release. You felt lighter than you had while telling yourself you shouldn’t go. It wasn’t a good decision, true, but it was the one you wanted to make.

**Fine. But don’t be upset when you don’t like what you find.**

You couldn’t promise that. You were absolutely being silly, you knew. More than silly. You were being reckless. What if you hadn’t imagined the danger? Your life meant more than just your own desires. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself from stepping onto the path. You had to know.

Even if the truth was horrible.

As you neared the clearing with the hole, you noticed a second set of footprints marking the way. Long, large feet—heel pressing further in than the ball of the foot—slightly worn on the left side. A man with an odd gait wearing well-worn shoes. Hm. You broke through the ring of trees to see a tall figure standing at the edge of the hole, his hand pushing his hat aside to scratch at his head.

The constable.

How odd.

The matron had rung up the police station in the city, true, but you hadn’t thought they would take it seriously. You’d thought that their response of ‘we’ll look into it’ meant they would, in reality, simply get a good laugh at the Home’s frayed, nervous women. To see the constable himself examining the object of your obsession was troubling, to say the least. Though you weren’t _too_ concerned, as you’d known the man for practically your whole life. He had been your father’s greatest friend, only moving to the north after he’d been injured in battle overseas. You’d still visited him on holidays, and his family and yours were more like relatives than merely friends.

You knew if he was here then they were, in fact, taking this oddity seriously. The constable was a very serious man when it came to investigating trouble. He had never approached a case with anything less than his full attention.

You figured you ought to aid him in his investigation, if at all possible. You owed him that much, at least.

You closed the distance between you, clapping a hand to his shoulder. He startled, swinging around with his hand to his club. You smiled up at him toothily. 

“God’s teeth, child. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” His hand dropped from his weapon, and you shrugged apologetically. He eyed you warily. “What are you doing up so late, anyhow?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you croaked, your voice tiny and rusty with disuse. You’d never been able to fully mimic the intonations of a northern man, so you simply didn’t tend to talk much anymore. Considering how easy it was to tell you weren’t a man when you spoke like a well-bred southern lady, it wasn’t a good idea.

“Ah. Of course, child. Forgive me, I’d forgotten.” He shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of your malady before gesturing to the hole. “Perhaps it’s for the best you’re here, anyway. The matron of St. Agatha’s seemed to be very concerned about this opening. She insisted someone come down immediately. She mentioned you were the one who found it?”

“Yes.”

He seemed to be waiting for you to elaborate, but when you offered nothing else, he prompted you with, “Is there anything you can tell me about it?”

“What would you like to know?” you asked, your hand clenched tight over the pebble in your pocket.

“Anything, my dear. I’ll admit this has me…intrigued. Not every day do I get to examine something so odd.”

You looked away, down into the hole. The same black abyss stared back at you. Your thumb worried at the pebble.

“Nothing in particular.” You sighed. “I did go down there, but there was naught to be found. It’s simply too dark to make anything out.”

“You went in _there_?” he asked, incredulous. His bushy eyebrows rose. “Cor, you certainly are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at that acknowledgement.

**If you really were _his_ daughter, surely you’d still be with him?**

You suppressed a shudder of annoyance. It had always been a sore point for you, so you didn’t like to think about it often. You simply put it out of your mind for the moment.

“Yes, I rappelled down after I spotted a strange bird. I thought I might see if it was a dangerous specimen, or perhaps a new species entirely.”

“Strange in what sense?”

The constable was using his interrogation voice. You didn’t mind. You had nothing to hide; it wasn’t against the law for you to be exploring caves on the Home’s property.

You made a soft gesture with your hands to indicate your difficulty in describing the moth-owl. “It was…unearthly.”

The constable’s eyebrows knitted together.“It may have been deformed.” You gave a brief, clinical description of it, keeping to yourself how startled you’d been.

“I see,” he said after a moment’s deliberation, stroking his moustache thoughtfully.

“Though I didn’t spot it when I entered the cave. As I’ve mentioned, the darkness is much too thick. One would need more light than a lantern provides.” You cleared your throat. It was beginning to get a slight tickle from all your talking.

“Hm. Well, if you didn’t see anything dangerous down there, I’m not convinced this needs to be examined further. It’s odd, certainly, but…” He paused, the hand stroking his moustache gesturing slightly. “If I was to be perfectly honest, we don’t have the men to spare on something so trivial. The only reason I came was to make sure there was nothing of danger inside.”

You appreciated his candour, though it set your nerves slightly on edge to know you would have no excuse to stay away. Once the constable spoke to the matron about it, you would be free to continue your exploration. The thought gave you chills all while thrilling your heart. You hadn’t truly been ready to give up on your curiosity, though you had begun to be ever-so-slightly frightened. It made it all the more interesting to you that you had felt a raw, primal fear while exploring inside. You’d never felt that before, not at such an instant, powerful level.

**Hm. You’re right.**

You were about to thank the constable for coming along to check up on this at such short notice when you saw something out of the corner of your eye.

A light?

It had come from the hole.

Your gaze narrowed as you focused on where the light had shone for a brief moment, your heart racing. 

There. It happened again. 

A small, flickering light, as though a torch was turned on and off.

Your eyes watered as the wind blew directly into them. You could not blink, though.

You willed it to shine once more, the excitement of real, actual activity inside the hole causing your blood to sing in your veins.

Again!

It obeyed.

Your lips parted with surprise as you smiled. 

There was something down there.

**How… _interesting_.**

“Child,” the constable whispered, his hand settling on your shoulder. “Did you see that?”

You gave a minute nod.

“God in heaven, it looked like a torch,” he breathed. “We must leave—now.”

You didn’t argue, though you wanted nothing more than to leap down into the pit and see what had created that light. As you and the constable climbed down the mountain, you asked him what had caused him such distress. He explained his knowledge of soldiers sent in as spies, digging into the enemy’s soil and planting themselves until they received orders to attack. It made a logical sense to you, though your heart felt it was off target, somehow.

You did not express these feelings.

As he mounted his horse in the stables, the constable asked you to relay the message to the matron that he was returning to the city to request backup. You nodded your acquiescence and he kicked his horse into a gallop, his figure disappearing behind a hill as you watched.

**Oh well. It was interesting, but this is probably for the best.**

You turned your face to the sky, the pregnant moon watching you with its steady light.

You smiled.

 _There was something down there_.

And you were going to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: a conversation with the darkness.
> 
> Once upon a time there was a shitty blog named Peach Cake. It's mine. It could have been named worse. The end. =D tellcosy.tumblr.com


	5. The Constable's Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The constable brings backup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, I KNOW WHAT I SAID IS NEXT.
> 
> No, I didn't know this chapter would go on so long.
> 
> Yes, I'm sorry.
> 
> So you get two chapters at once. Shazam!

You didn’t bother sitting in bed that night.

You sat on your windowsill instead, knees braced against the side, the bottom edges digging into your flesh. You watched the moon sail over the night sky, its gaze capturing yours. You didn’t feel right in your room’s space anymore. It didn’t feel like your home.

Out there, in the hills, in the trees, rain sliding across your cheeks, sap in your hair, blood in your mouth, heart pounding, feet stomping, breath fast…

You felt the call.

**You’re especially romantic tonight.**

You supposed you were, in a way. You had made a sort of peace with your own obsession as you watched the constable’s departure. It was clear you weren’t the only one feeling the strain. You had seen the way he had looked as you’d left together. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from looking behind him every few minutes, as though his mind was still back at the hole. If even someone as serious and down-to-earth as the constable could be pulled in…

You hardly stood a chance, did you?

Still, you weren’t necessarily _happy_ with the cyclical nature of your thoughts. You had enjoyed thinking on anything and everything before this, spending your nights wandering the hills and pondering life. But it was refreshing. Though you had a purpose for living where you might not have, had you not been exiled to the north, it was still a boring, solitary life. Your days focused entirely on routine and sameness, you had grown increasingly insular, keeping your dissatisfied thoughts to yourself even as you ventured further and further away from the Home.

Finding the hole had sparked you back to life. It was something that demanded your immediate, absolute attention, though it had done nothing to indicate the need for such.

Until now.

Oh, how strong was the shiver of excitement you felt at the thought of returning later that day.

There was something down there!

You couldn’t wait to go back and explore again!

**I’m not sure I like how possessed you’ve been with thoughts of this hole.**

You wondered if that was because your friend was jealous. Perhaps they didn’t want to share your attention?

**Don’t be daft.**

You smiled, and thought on how nothing could ever replace them in your heart. 

Mostly because they had control over it.

**Ah, such a flirt.**

You spun and worried the pebble heart between your fingertips, the memory of your terror at being touched flashing across your skin. Though you jested with your friend, you knew the seriousness of the situation, even despite your seeming possession. You would remain cautious and conscientious while returning. You wouldn’t put yourself in unnecessary danger.

**Going back in _is_ unnecessary danger.**

You disagreed. You had been down there once already and returned with no harm done. You would simply do it again. Carefully.

**I’m not going to argue this with you.**

You appreciated that.

**Cheeky.**

You rested your head against the windowsill as the moon slowly disappeared, chased away by the sun. You really ought to rise. You had chores to catch up on after your neglect the day before. You wanted to leave early, hoping to avoid a scolding by the other sisters when they found out you’d gone back.

To them, following the advice of the matron came as second nature. She spoke, and they obeyed.

Unfortunately, you’d never quite managed that.

You tugged your boots back on your feet and smoothed down your trousers, heading first to the kitchens for some breakfast. You helped in the stables for most of the morning, but you also managed to get a bit of hunting and patrolling done as well before lunchtime. 

You were bringing back a few game birds and herbs you had foraged, all of it draped over your shoulder, when the matron found you. Her stern face took in the state of your clothes—blood from the birds and muck from the horses covering your trousers—before she tutted, holding out a large woven basket. She told you of the men the constable had brought back with him, and how they were already up at the hole surveying the area. She seemed reluctant to ask you to go back there, but she had no one else to bring the men their lunch, late as it was.

You hastily agreed, cleaning yourself off with a stiff-bristled brush as best you could. You wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to be near the hole, no matter how awkward you found most of the city’s men to be. The matron warned you not to speak too much, reminding you of the necessity for discretion. You held back from reminding _her_ that, as you were the one posing as a man, it would be more disastrous for _you_ to be found out than it would for her to lose her guard. You knew she meant well. Her brusqueness was simply the best way she knew how to express it.

You did not dally on the path, stopping yourself just short of running. You didn’t particularly like the idea of a group of people there at the hole, though you couldn’t grasp why, exactly, that would be. You were becoming more uncomfortable, the closer you got. You simply couldn’t understand why, and your feet flew along the mossy mountain floor.

**Slow down. Listen.**

You did so, paying more attention to your surroundings. Ah. So _that_ was why you were unnerved. The birds had ceased their chatter and the leaves hardly shook, the forest eerily silent. It was an unusually hot afternoon. The air was close and thick. It smelled slightly of…flowers? It reminded you distinctly of something. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

**It smells like being inside the cave.**

That was it.

You didn’t have time to figure out why exactly that bothered you so much, though, as you were already to the clearing, the rowdiness of the men pressing on your ears. You cleared your throat loudly to get their attention, once it became clear they would not be noticing you otherwise.

“Ah, who’s this?” a sandy-haired man, dressed like a gentleman, called.

“Looks like lunch, men!”

“About damned time.”

“Hallo, lad,” the constable greeted you, his eyes twinkling at the state of you. He seemed in better spirits now that he had company other than yourself. You could understand that. You had been told as a child that you were often quite eerie to normal people. You supposed it was because you weren’t particularly chatty, as you often drifted into your own thoughts. You hardly made an effort to fill any awkward silences that arose, despite the expectations set on your gender to do just that.

**If you want to believe that’s the real reason people find you unnerving…**

Ah, yes. You’d got enough odd, vacant looks while first meeting someone that you knew it couldn’t merely be because of your idiosyncrasies. You supposed that, on some level, other people could probably feel what was inside you.

A few of them had even _seen_ what was inside.

The constable introduced his men as they sat in their makeshift camp at the edge of the hole—a geologist, a gamesman, two policemen, and oddly enough, a reporter. He explained that the policemen would be staying behind to aid the other three, in case of danger. You merely nodded, not particularly interested in the men. They seemed alright—if not a bit noisy—but they would be getting in your way. The looks on their faces as the constable told them of your descent was enough to let you know exactly what they thought of it. You could tell they wouldn’t allow you your own exploration while they worked.

Well, you would simply have to wait until they fell asleep. They couldn’t stay down there all night.

“Alright, then, boys. I’m heading back to the city. If you have any questions, the lad will have to do.”

The gamesman snorted and took a swig from a flask. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

You blinked at the roughly dressed, dark-haired man who was eyeing you with sneering derision. You made sure he knew you were unimpressed.

“Fine,” you rasped, pleased that your voice came out suitably low. “Suits me.”

“Don’t need a jumped-up chapel boy like you telling me how to do my job.”

You stared him down with wide, unblinking eyes, until he looked away. The other men looked incredibly uncomfortable as they ate their food. One of the policemen gave you an apologetic shake of his head.

The constable looked as though he’d like to say something, but you cut him off with, “Happy to oblige. If you want to die down there in the dark, it’s no business of mine.”

The gamesman glared your way, gripping his cup tight. He looked as though he’d like to throw it at you. “I don’t scare as easily as you, boy. I’ve seen badgers dig bigger holes.”

You shrugged, noting the uncertainty on the geologist’s face. You had nothing to say to him anymore. You’d said enough.

**Would like to teach him a lesson in humility.**

You were sure.

You went back to the Home with the constable, who apologised for the man’s behaviour. You waved it off, not bothered in the slightest. That was hardly the worst you’d been called. You bid him goodbye at the foot of the mountain, where he’d hitched his horse. You continued with whatever chores you could pick up before suppertime, a sour taste in the back of your throat. It seemed to trickle down from the disappointment you felt over leaving the hole to the men now exploring it.

After you had an early meal, twilight settled over the valley but before the moon showed its face, you were approached by the matron once more. She merely held out another basket to you, no words exchanged. You sighed internally. You might have expected to be conscripted to the task, considering you were the only person who would venture from the Home after dark, but you still didn’t want to do it. If you left so early in the night, you wouldn’t exactly be able to stay and explore the hole. The men would find your lingering disturbing, no doubt.

You went anyway, frowning with frustration the whole trek up the mountain. You didn’t want to deal with the sour-faced poacher when you should have been able to use your time for more interesting purposes. You told yourself it would be fine; you would simply toss the basket at the men and leave it for the morning to collect. You would likely be seeing them a lot in the coming days, if you were to bring them every meal.

Then you crested the hill and pushed through the trees to the clearing, and your mind chuffed slightly with laughter. Perhaps, then, you wouldn’t be seeing them much at all.

The men were gone, no single trace of them left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the Undertale tag finally means something.
> 
> There was an old woman who swallowed a blog. She swallowed the blog to catch the reader. 
> 
> Oh, hey, look--it's the blog she swallowed! tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> Maybe you should go check it out.


	6. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The abyss gazes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to skip out yesterday's chapter. Here's a longer one to make up for it.

You dropped your basket to the ground, thrusting your hands into your trouser pockets. You strode forward to the edge of the hole, peering inside. Did the men descend already? If so…where was their camp? Your own ropes were still hanging down over the edge, but no others. Surely they hadn’t lowered their gear down the hole as well?

**That would be stupid, even for men of their calibre.**

You smiled slowly, walking the perimeter of the hole until you were on the opposite side. You shouldn’t smile at that, of course, but the men had not exactly made a good impression on you. You took a deep breath, the hot, close air pressing against your lungs as you looked around the clearing. It was thicker than it had been before, and the smell of flowers was sickly sweet now. It invaded your nose and slid down into your throat, tasting of death and copper.

You licked your lips, turning your eyes to the rising moon on the horizon.

“Hello?” you called out into the night, your voice strong and deep.

No response.

You turned around and took a few steps into the tree line, watching for signs of movement.

“Hello!” you called again, fingertips rubbing against the pebble in your pocket. Though it had caused you such fright at first, it had somehow become a charm for you. It soothed your nerves.

There was a rustle from behind you. You turned, expecting to see one of the men emerging from the trees to greet you, but there was nothing. You gripped the pebble in your palm, hand fisted in your pocket. Your eyes widened slightly as you heard another soft rustling of the grass.

“Hello…?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was only silence at first.

Then…

“…hello…”

You shivered, looking all around you for who had spoken. The voice had been quiet, paper-thin, and almost…pleased? You couldn’t spot anybody around you.

“Where—” you squeaked, then cleared your throat. It would not do to ruin your disguise merely because you were being skittish. “Where are you?”

“…right…here…” the voice whispered slowly with dry amusement, and for a moment, it sounded as though it were right behind you. You spun, only to find yourself facing the hole once more.

Your body broke out in a cold sweat.

The voice was coming _from_ the hole.

You went completely still. 

What should you do?

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice hardly shaking. You took a step closer, your eyes trained to spot any movement at all. You weren’t going to be surprised by an attack, if one were to come.

“I’m…me. Who are _you_?”

The voice was definitely male, though it was a higher register than you were used to. The rough, and yet ethereal quality to it sent shivers down your spine with every word it spoke. It was like—it was like—

Leaves rattling in the wind.

**I don’t like this.**

You didn’t blame them. You weren’t exactly pleased with the realisation that you had heard this voice before, while hanging deep in the hole. But at the same time, you wanted to know what the great mystery was. Why was there someone down in this gaping pit? Where had it come from in the first place?

And _where_ had the constable’s men gone?

You took another step.

“I’m—”

**Don’t tell it your name!**

You flinched as though struck. Yes, of course, how stupid of you. You cleared your throat and tried again.

“I’m a friend.”

**That isn’t any better.**

“R—rrr—reee—reall—yyyy?”

Your head swam at the broken, overexcited way the voice responded. It sounded as though you’d given it a hundred birthday’s presents all at once.

You took the last step to the edge of the hole, kneeling down beside it, your hands flat against the grass as you leaned over the edge. You still couldn’t see anything.

“Are _you_ a friend?” you breathed, heart fluttering weakly.

There came the same skittering, rustling sound, and then what sounded like two rocks scraping together. You trembled softly. What in God’s name was possessing you to speak to whoever—whatever—was in this hole? Surely you couldn’t be _that_ curious?

Another soft sound, barely registering in your ears. A whine, short and sharp and impatient.

“I—can—be.”

You bit your lip, a crack breaking open and oozing a line of blood.

“Were you the one who gave me back the pebble?”

Another whining breath, and you got the distinct impression it was meant to be a laugh. “Do you like it?” the voice whispered, tense enough that it cracked.

You licked at the blood on your lip, swallowing. You had to be careful what you said—you didn’t want to make it clear you’d been terrified. “I...did. Why...why didn’t you show yourself to me, though?”

A clicking sound. “...afraid...”

Your eyebrows knitted together, and you leaned forward even further. “You’re afraid of me?”

Choking, whining breath. “Afraid…it’s time to leave!”

You blinked. Had he just made a joke?

**Run.**

You jumped to your feet, following orders without question as you scrambled for the cover of the trees. Breathing hard, you raced to hide yourself in the thick brush against a tree, rolling to the ground and covering your mouth. You watched through the leaves and branches with wide eyes, your hands shaking with adrenaline. What was it? What was wrong?

**Stay still. Don't make a sound.**

You obeyed.

While you worked to keep yourself calm, you began to feel what your friend had already noticed. There was something approaching, dark and quiet, with an aura that prickled your skin with goosebumps. You could barely make out its figure: tall— _very tall_ —with wide, hunched shoulders, a thick body, and a bald head. It appeared to be a human male, but something about the way it moved suggested otherwise to you. It was slow, deliberate, and stiff. As though he wasn’t comfortable in his own body. The closer he got to where you hid, the more uncomfortable you became. 

There was a low, rhythmic thrumming starting in your head, pressing against your skull. Images of fresh blood pumping through a heart slithered into your mind. Other images, disconnected and disconcerting, followed. Thick, dark blood dribbling through teeth, staining a bone-white chest. Two monstrous creatures made of shifting darkness, appearing to couple under the light of the moon. A mewling foetus, only vaguely human-shaped, falling to the ground and turning its eyes to you, its gaze lit from within. Its lips pulled back from razor-sharp teeth, and smiled at you.

You whimpered.

**I said keep quiet!**

You pressed your wrist into your mouth, biting down. As the figure drew level with your hiding spot, you could only see the bottoms of his legs and feet in your line of sight. He was wearing…

…tennis shoes?

You didn’t dwell on that for long, as he continued past, dragging something behind them. It was black, and dropping down out of its fibres as it caught on rocks. A bedroll?

It groaned.

You had to bite your arm harder to keep from crying out. Oh, God. Dear Lord, there was someone in there. What should you do? Should you try to help them? You didn’t think you could stop the hulking man with force alone—he was much too large. You could use your knife, but you didn’t particularly want to if there was even a chance you would lose it to him. He was obviously dangerous enough even without a weapon available.

**Don’t try anything stupid.**

But…

**No.**

You had to poke out of the underbrush slightly to keep your eye on the man now, though your friend thought furiously about how reckless you were being. You watched the person in the bedroll thrash and complain loudly as the man dragged them to the hole. You shook your head, not wanting to see what you were sure was about to happen.

Surely he wasn’t going to throw the person in?

With a great wrench of his arm, the man pulled the person in the bedroll into his arms, holding them over the hole. 

He _was_.

He did.

You flinched as they screamed the whole way down. A wet gurgle came soon after. Death had come for them.

You felt sick that you hadn’t done a thing to stop it from happening.

**Better you stay alive than be a hero.**

You felt sick that you agreed.

The man swayed on the edge of the hole, looking as though he was going to jump down as well, before his head snapped up. You strained your eyes to see what he was looking at, hoping it wasn’t someone else climbing the mountain.

It wasn’t.

It was much worse.

It was your basket.

Before you could react with more than a stomach flop, the man had turned, looking directly toward where you were hidden.

Your breath hitched against your arm—even from this far away, you could see the glow of the man’s red eyes, sunk deep in his face, his low brow, and, alarmingly, a wide grimace that showed off wickedly large, sharp canines in an underbite.

Oh God, he wasn’t _human_. He simply couldn’t be. You’d never seen a face like that on anybody, no matter how many maladies they suffered from. You didn’t think human physiology could produce a face like that.

Thankfully, before you lost control of your own instincts and fled, the man—creature?—simply stepped back over the edge, plummeting down into the hole. You sat there for another few moments before shimmying out from your hiding place and sprinting to the hole. Skidding to a stop, you gripped the edge to look inside.

You weren’t sure why you were surprised to see only darkness, but you couldn’t blame yourself. The man had been so large, and so cavalier in his descent, that you just assumed there must be something waiting to catch him below.

There wasn’t.

**Now would be a good time to stop poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.**

You stood on shaky legs and headed back down the path, stumbling like a drunkard. You made it halfway down before remembering the basket you’d left behind. You left it, thinking that you’d come collect it in the morning. 

You suddenly wished for the light of day.

You huddled in your bed the rest of the night, head tucked down against your chest. The matron found you there at dawn, and she immediately began praying over you, making the sign of the cross in the air. You didn’t even look. You couldn’t get the image of the man out of your eyes. You thought of how large, and yet light on his feet he was. You thought of his red eyes, and the strangely luminescent quality to them. You thought of his teeth, and how they were formed for tearing into flesh.

You shivered.

The matron’s admonishments and your friend’s verbal prodding eventually roused you from your reverie. You told the matron about the constable’s men being gone, but nothing about the tall man. You didn’t want her saying that you couldn’t go back.

**You _aren’t_ going back.**

You worried the pebble in your fingers, your eyes downcast.

**_No_.**

The matron eventually left, saying she would find out what had happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her there was no use; you already knew what had happened to the men.

**You would have to be _mad_ to return.**

You smiled as the matron left.

Maybe you _were_ mad.

But you had seen who—or what—was down there…

…had spoken to the abyss…

…had seen its face…

And now you _had_ to.

 _You felt the call_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of the prologue chapters! Next up: Frisk stalks the stalker.
> 
> Quick note: this story _is_ planned, but there is some wiggle room, especially for secondary characters. I was just curious to see if anybody has something specific they're interested in seeing? I'm still a little iffy about asking, 'cause I don't want to disappoint anyone if I didn't end up using something they wanted. But I do like to make things scary for everyone. And I've never asked before. So! I'll, uh...just leave this here.
> 
> If you wanna suggest or ask something directly to me instead, I also have a tumblr: tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> I...can't really remember if I've posted something NSFW, so better just to assume 18+.


	7. Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three hunters in the deep, dark woods...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. Birthdays and sick toddlers! Both horrifying things.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Can't believe this is over 1,000 views already. I love you guys. =']

You spent the next week in a haze, your mind never straying far from the mountain. The matron, after phoning the constable and telling him about your discovery, gave you strict orders to not go back anymore. She told you it was too dangerous, now, too risky. She still had no idea about the tall man, or the person in the bedroll. You decided it would be best to not climb the mountain during the day, anyway—you didn’t want to worry her more than necessary.

Especially as there was not a chance in Hell that you were going to be able to stay away, no matter who ordered you.

You were consumed now, fully lost to the mystery. You wanted to speak to the murderer, and to the other voice again, as well. You wanted to know why they were down there; why they had chosen this mountain. You wanted to know what they had done with the men, or were planning to do, if they had somehow survived.

Worst of all, and against your better judgement, you simply wanted to know what the tall man and the voice _were_. After thinking about it for the whole morning after the incident, you had half-convinced yourself they must both be human, to some extent. You wanted to seek them out, and see for yourself exactly what they were made of. You wanted to touch, to examine, to puzzle them out until you had them neatly catalogued in their respective classifications. 

At the same time, though, you knew just how dangerous and foolhardy it would be to attempt to do so. You were under no impression that you could allow yourself to indulge in your curiosity. At least to that extent. You would allow yourself to return to the hole, despite the murderous intent of the tall man, but you would keep your distance. You would watch from afar, and with deep caution, both for the man’s actions as well as your own. You would _not_ allow yourself to be swept away in the mania of the moon’s influence.

You knew better than anyone, the unreliability of your own—and everyone else’s—judgement, at this time.

With the moon’s Blood Cycle begun—the time in which the moon’s face was stained blood-red, its body heavy and full for an entire month or more—no human could fully trust themselves. Their senses, their thoughts, their instincts, even—it all became scrambled under the gaze of the pregnant moon. Paranoia and mistrust ran rampant in everyone’s veins, with the most susceptible of people falling victim to madness. Luckily, the cycle happened rarely—so rarely that for it to begin while the War was underway had caused a mild panic to spread throughout the country folk.

You had heard whispers of the ill omen it surely was for the two to coincide, and the disasters that were certain to follow. You had also heard people speaking out against such superstition, claiming that it was completely baseless, and that the moon’s rare, odd cycle was simply a natural phenomenon that science would eventually explain. You weren’t fully committed to either side. With most things in life, you found science had a reasonable explanation that you were happy to accept. But with something as mysterious and universal as the moon’s Blood Cycle, you couldn’t see how science would be able to easily explain it.

And if you were being fully honest, you weren’t interested in a scientific explanation. You had always felt a kinship with fairy tales and other flights of fancy. You hadn’t been able to express your love for the supernatural since your mother had passed, though. Your father had been quick to condemn any talk that wasn’t firmly rooted in reality, and in hospital, you had been too afraid to reveal any weakness to the doctors. By the time you had moved to the Home, you had grown out of the need to share your thoughts on such matters.

Which was definitely for the best, considering how deeply affected you were by the moon, even when it wasn’t full and fat and heavy with soul-twisting blood. It always instilled restlessness within you, which you found impossible to ignore. But during the Blood Cycle, you were plagued by a frenzied wanderlust, an overwhelming inability to ignore your natural urges. During the last Cycle, you had been found clambering down a rocky bank a few counties north of your London home, attempting to wade across a river in your single-mindedness.

You couldn’t remember any of it, other than the thought that you _had_ to get somewhere.

You remembered feeling…expected.

It was this same feeling that pulled you back up the mountain every night that week, as soon as the moon peeked inside your room. For three of those nights, you positioned yourself in a tree, watching for signs of movement from the hole. The air in the clearing had become so close that breathing was laborious; it was hot and wet and incredibly heady, as though you were in a bath house. By the third night, after no sightings at all, you found yourself falling into a trance-like state. You only snapped back to life when your friend whispered of the creatures emerging from the hole.

They had been especially quiet since telling you that you should not continue with your obsession, obviously not pleased with your decisions. You wondered if you should perhaps be more wary because of this, but you were fascinated by the sight of the strangely-formed animals below. They all came from the hole slowly, looking around warily as though worried of being caught. Their caution was the only real comparison to normal animals you could find, though. The first out was another of the moth-owls you had seen before, but it was closely followed by another, more disturbing monster. It was thicker than the moth-owl, and the wings folded against its back were clearly insectoid. It crawled on all four short, stubby legs, much like a cockroach, though it was the size of a border collie. When it fluttered its wings, you caught a glimpse of rows and rows of rolling eyes underneath. 

Your stomach rolled at the sight. You had to look away after a moment, its twitching movements making you sick. You were not fond of insects even when they weren’t so large. They were so alien.

You looked back when a creaking, snapping sound began. The two monsters were standing over a spot in the ground next to the hole where a thick sprout was growing. The cockroach monster stood on its hind legs and grasped the sprout, leaning back until what appeared to be a gigantic parsnip tore from the soil. You wondered at that before the cockroach stepped back, the root vegetable supporting itself. 

It had a face.

You stared, disgust twisting your lips. What _were_ these abominations?

You watched them stand together, their eyes turned to the night sky. They seemed to be basking in the light of the moon, a recognisable wonderment in their uncanny features. You felt your friend’s attention flicker to life.

**What are they doing?**

You had no idea. They were completely entranced, though, you could tell. You wanted to make a sound to see if they’d react, but you also didn’t want to ruin your opportunity to merely observe.

**So…odd. They look as though they’re…worshipping.**

You couldn’t help but agree. The longer they stood down below, their bodies still and eyes wide, the more accurate that description became. You stayed much later than you had intended, that night, simply watching them watch the moon. After the Blood Moon had crested and begun falling, though, they seemed to startle, scuttling back down into the hole in a flurry. Your stomach flopped with excitement, and you looked around to see what had frightened them so.

There he was.

You leaned forward on your branch, eyes wide and focused on your ‘prey.’ The tall man was trudging along, once again from the deep forest, his shoulders slumped and head turned down. You licked your lips with anticipation and curiosity. How had he slipped past you? You had been watching the clearing like a guard dog since you’d arrived. You clung to the bark, your nails digging in painfully as the man dragged a large, writhing sack behind him.

You had no doubt there were more of his victims inside.

 _What_ was he doing with these people? Why did he kidnap them from who-knows-where, only to dump them in the hole, presumably to their deaths? Why bother taking them alive if they were only going to die in the fall?

**If I’d known you would be so obsessed by murderers, I would have let you have some fun in a safe environment. Like an asylum.**

You smiled and thought about how silly your friend was being. It wasn’t the _murder_ that had caught your attention. It was the _why_ of it. You had met plenty of killers in your time, but they rarely had interesting motivations. Revenge, territorial disputes, passion, jealousy…they all bored you. It was all human, animal instinct—kill the enemy before they kill you. But this one…

Oh, he was different, you could tell.

**That’s what worries me.**

Your friend—worried? You raised your eyebrows as the man jumped down into the hole the same way he had before. As soon as he disappeared, you flew down the tree, ignoring the pain lancing through your hands as you were careless with splinters. You jogged to the hole, your duster flapping behind you. Your friend was never worried. Why would they be now?

**Look at yourself, and you’ll find the answer.**

You had lowered yourself to the ground next to the hole’s edge, the grass tickling your nose and chin. You were peering down into the abyss, looking for signs of the man and his quarry. There was nothing—only the light-absorbing darkness, as usual.

You pointed this out to your friend. It may be a little reckless for you to be getting so close, but you’d known there wouldn’t be anything. 

There never was.

The next night, you came back hoping to catch the man leaving the hole this time, but despite never taking your eyes off of it, you never managed to. He was simply there, on the edge of the forest, just as he had been before. You spent your day thinking about how he could possibly be getting by your close attention. You carried out your duties with little to no conscious attention, like a marionette performing for the crowd.

**But who is your puppeteer?**

The next night, as you sat in your usual hiding spot, you worked at chipping away a hole in the heart-shaped pebble until the time you knew the man would come. You had been caught out by the matron—one of the sisters who washed your clothes had found the pebble and reported it to her.  You had barely managed to convince her it was simply an oddity you had found in your wanderings. She still seemed wary of it, though, so you thought that it was best not to take chances. You had become attached to the pebble, for the way it soothed your nerves while you played with it. So you had the idea to fashion it into a necklace—just another to add to the two already hanging over your heart.

You were nursing a small nick you’d given yourself after a slip of the knife when the man showed up again. You cursed under your breath, eyes intent on the…creature?…trailing along beside him at hip’s height. It looked like an oversized canine’s skull, with chips in its bone and a large, loosely-hanging jaw. Slaver ran through its teeth and to the ground, though it was tinted pink. You made a logical leap and thought that it must be blood. You squinted your eyes to see how its body was shaped, but you couldn’t see anything more than a deep red, wriggling mass being dragged underneath and behind its cranium. The way its large red eyes rolled between the tall man and the ground before them reminded you of how your father’s hunting dogs had looked to him for command.

Oh.

You suddenly understood what the mass dragging behind it must be.

You nibbled at the flesh of your lip, doing some mental arithmetic on how many victims this man had claimed already. The size of the sack he carried, plus now the fleshy protuberance of his demonic canine…

He could well be nearing a double dozen victims, by this point. If he _had_ taken the constable’s men. _And_ if he only hunted at night, when you saw him. You had no way of knowing.

You thought perhaps it was time to inform someone of what you were seeing. You weren’t particularly interested in who died in the city—it was an awful, wretched place already, with murders happening in the streets every day. And the man had so far left the Home alone. You had not heard a single complaint of disturbance at night, despite keeping your ear trained to listen for it in everyone’s conversations. But there was no way of knowing he would continue to spare the Home from his murderous intent.

And you would never allow him to harm the women there. You would tear his flesh from his bones before you allowed that.

So perhaps it would merely be easier to contact someone for backup. The constable would be severely cross with you for not informing him sooner, but you would come up with a believable excuse. You could say you were scared—that usually worked to convince a sceptic. 

And, if you were being honest, it wasn’t entirely a lie this time. The man, though fascinating to you, also instilled a deep, primal fear in your heart. You couldn’t comprehend the full implications of your obsession with someone who had, without trying, caused you to tremble with fear by his mere presence alone.

**It’s probably for the best if you don’t think about that too much. Even typical humans struggle with their demons. Yours, well…it’s easier just to say that you aren’t _typical_.**

You knew that. And you knew it was time you made a healthy decision regarding those demons. So you went back to the Home that night fully intending to ring the constable in the morning.

You didn’t.

You had stood in the Home’s office after requesting the use of the phone, and had merely stared at the receiver, your hand shaking. You couldn’t do it. You had slammed the phone back down and fled, not knowing what to say about your indecision to the concerned sister keeping attendance at the desk.

You poured yourself into your chores, dread licking at the edges of your mind. You were lost. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask for help, even though you were starting to feel like you were in over your head. You had never encountered a situation where you couldn’t protect yourself, though, so another part of you whispered how it would be fine. You could keep watching the man preying on whoever was in those sacks. You could keep your preoccupation.

You could keep going back.

You went back that night.

It was much earlier than usual, though, as you had flown through your work and had no stomach for supper. You hadn’t been able to eat much for several days, in fact. You were aware of how alarming that was—it was, perhaps, the most alarming symptom of just how consumed you were. You had never neglected your health before. You had always made certain to eat properly, and maintain yourself. Even when you forgot something, your friend usually reminded you.

But they seemed just as distracted as you, this week. You wondered if the Blood Moon had any effect on them, or if it was merely worry for your shared safety.

**A little of both.**

You climbed the mountain with trepidation, your feet carrying you even when your heart was unsure. You made to enter the clearing, as you always did on the way to your hiding spot, when you spotted a sight that made your breath stutter.

It was the man.

He was climbing from the hole.

Your heart in your throat, you hid behind a thick-trunked tree. You listened to the soft grunts and shuffling sounds as he emerged, and then a sigh. You peered around the edge of the tree to see him shudder once, and a strange clacking sound came from him. This close, and in the light of the setting sun, you could see his attire much better: a long black oilcloth coat, its style not unlike your own, though it only reached his thighs, his trousers were black and loose, their hems ragged, and what appeared to be the same tennis shoes he’d been wearing before, their brown-and-white striped canvas tops dirty and specked, you assumed, with blood.

You breathed softly against your hand to muffle the sound, watching as he hitched his trousers up and set off into the trees, heading in the direction he had always emerged from. You hesitated for only a moment before making a reckless decision.

You followed him.

After he was far enough away that you were comfortable being exposed, you wound your way around the hole, dipping behind trees as you kept the large man in your sights. His head was bowed low enough to nearly disappear behind his coat’s collar, but you didn’t fool yourself into assuming he wouldn’t notice you following him. He was obviously intelligent enough to evade you before now, though you weren’t sure if he had intended on that, or if he wasn’t even aware of your presence.

You had to assume he was.

**You are going to cause yourself irreparable damage if you continue this.**

You had the awful feeling they were right. But you couldn’t stop. You were already so far beyond the point where you could stop. You had to know about this man, about what else was in that hole—what had _spoken_ to you. So you continued on, your whole body shivering with adrenaline. You knew someone as large as the man could probably crush you without much effort. But you weren’t going to let that happen. You were being extremely quiet, only stepping when the man stepped and keeping away from dead leaves. You had your duster hitched up so it wouldn’t drag along and reveal you. Your eyes were blurring slightly with how intently you watched the man for signs that he knew you were following him.

But he never turned around.

You followed him halfway down the mountain in the opposite direction of the Home, falling into a trance caused by the high level of stress you were under. Consequently, you ignored the sound of leaves rustling in the trees high above you. You only snapped to attention when your friend whispered in your head, their voice oddly twisted and hoarse.

**Something is following you.**

You froze. Your senses went on high alert, your eyes scanning the forest around you. What? Who could it be? You fingered the necklaces under your shirt, your teeth clenched. You couldn’t see anything around you at all.

 _Crack_.

A branch snapped in the trees directly above you, and you gasped before you could stop yourself, your head whipping up to focus on the canopy of leaves. You clapped a hand to your mouth, your back pressed against the tree you’d been hiding behind. There was nothing there. You couldn’t see a single thing in the trees—no birds, no squirrels, nothing.

Breathing out a shaky breath, you turned back to see that you had lost sight of the man. You continued in the same direction you’d been heading, trying to catch up. But it was no use; you reached the bottom of the mountain before giving up.

He was gone.

You swore silently to yourself for startling like that—you had _had_ him! You kicked at a branch angrily and decided to head back to the Home for the night. There was no use in going back up the mountain—you would only see what you’d seen before. You were better off leaving now and coming back the next night. Now that you knew he left early in the night, you would be able to plan better.

You spent the day preparing yourself, including actually getting three decent meals down. You could hardly taste the food, but you weren’t eating for flavour at any rate. You simply needed the energy. Since you had stopped sleeping, you had required much more sustenance than before to maintain your energy levels. When you had so many more meals to take in, you stopped looking for how good the food tasted, and instead thought on how much stamina it would give you.

You worked quickly again, not bothering to speak to anyone as you normally would. You didn’t care if they looked at you nervously, whispering of how you were acting. Your ears only heard the sound of your own heartbeat, thunderous and wild with excitement. Your eyes only saw the tall man, walking with his head hung low, as though the weight of the world rested on his neck.

Finally, you felt the kiss of the moon on your cheeks, and you bolted from the Home with abandon. 

Your friend tried to whisper to you that you shouldn’t go. That something felt desperately wrong.

But you couldn’t hear them either.

You ran to the mountain, climbing as fast as you could manage. You didn’t want to miss the man leaving. You didn’t want to wait another night before getting your chance to finally find out where he went, and what he was doing.

Thank God, you hadn’t missed him.

He was barely climbing from the hole, his sack tossed ahead of him. You took a moment to catch your breath, watching how eerily he moved—disjointed, and stiff, as though his muscles were permanently cramped.

You followed him as soon as he set off, the night continuing much as the one before. You kept an ear out for any sounds behind you, though, not wanting to be spooked again. You were determined to follow him to wherever he went, this time.

You managed to keep your nerves under control as you both continued down the mountain, entering the forest proper at the eastern foot. The man never once hinted that he had any idea you were there, and you felt a hint of smugness. You had always been particularly good at sneaking, and with your friend’s help, you could be basically undetectable.

You wiped the small smile from your face, though, when you saw where the man was headed. There was a campsite erected some distance ahead, the smoke from the fire giving its location away. You felt a hard lump form in your stomach. Oh, God, no. You hoped the people were gone, off poaching somewhere far away. Fishing in the stream that flowed through this forest. Foraging for edible food from the land. _Anything_.

Anything but be in their camp, completely unaware of the fact that death was coming for them.

**Is this not what you wanted?**

You hid behind a large tree, the sap-covered bark pressing into your back as you covered your mouth with your hands, your eyes closed tight. No, it wasn’t what you wanted.

**Surely that’s not true, though.**

You heard screams coming from the camp.

**Because you could have stopped this.**

A man pleaded for his life.

**You knew this was happening.**

A large crash resounded through the trees.

**You could have told someone.**

A crack.

**But you were curious.**

A gurgle.

**And now they’re dead. For your curiosity.**

You drew in a shuddering gasp, the reality of the situation striking through you. Your friend was right. You had to do something. You had to tell someone about this. But first, you had to leave without the man finding you.

You peeked around the tree again, and when you saw the gore in the camp, your stomach twisted. You weren’t queasy by nature in the slightest, but the sight of the man hunched over a mangled body, holding them close while surrounded by his other broken victims, made you sick. You supposed that answered one of your questions.

He didn’t always take people _alive_.

**_Run_!**

You choked, your body spasming from the desperate, panicked way your friend shouted. You tried to obey, but before you could take more than a few steps, you heard a sound like someone slamming to the forest floor from a height. You were yanked back from behind, a bone-thin arm wrapping across your middle and holding your arms as something covered your eyes. A scream climbed up your throat as darkness surrounded you. You tried to struggle, but whoever was holding you was as strong as an iron golem. 

You were trapped.

Then a voice came, right at your ear, with a whisper that sounded like leaves rustling in the wind.

“Guess…who…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Frisk gets more than bargained for.
> 
> I have a tumblr. I tumble. I tumble over at tellcosy.tumblr.com--come visit and tell me off when I don't write to schedule. ^^; Also if you wanna ask anything, feel free to.


	8. You Wanted This.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA HA WHOOPS LOOK WHAT I WROTE
> 
> Seriously guys this one has some major warnings attached to it. I'm so sorry. Okay, here we go.
> 
>  
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING:**
> 
>  
> 
> Depictions of Violence, Sexual Themes, Disturbing Themes, and...Unintentional Torture? It's--it's not fluffy, ya'll.
> 
> Bearing this in mind, let's do this.

“Sssans…I caught it.”

The darkness fell away from your eyes, and you saw the tall man turn to face you, his grimace dripping with blood. You whimpered at the sight of his face—he wasn’t _human_. He had no skin! His entire skull was exposed, his head shaped like that of a proto-human, with a heavy brow and jutting jaw. Where his nose should be was merely a hole, and you realised that his eyes were red lights emitting from deep, empty sockets.

What you had assumed was a grimace was, in fact, a set of predatory fangs, overlapping each other in such a way that appeared uncomfortable for the man. 

…

Could you even think of him as a man, now?

Surely he was more of a beast?

Or a demon.

A demon who could, with one bite from those teeth, tear you apart in a heartbeat.

God in heaven, you had gone too far this time.

You were going to die.

**No, no, no…**

You felt a small spasm roll through you as the thing holding you by your upper arms dug its sharp fingers into your flesh. You jerked and thrashed as the creature named Sans turned a direct, yet ambivalent gaze on you. The thing holding you gave a choking, breathless giggle.

**This is wrong. So wrong.**

“Don’t…try to escape…” The fingers—large, long, sharp and thin as razors—dug in further, until you cried out in pain. The voice was at your ear now, and you froze with gut-wrenching fear. “I don’t…want to hurt you…”

**Something is wrong with them!**

You could feel the thing’s shuddering, ice-cold breath against your neck, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it. You stared ahead at Sans, instead, a whine starting at the back of your throat. You were so scared. Your vision was starting to blur at the edges. You tried to keep yourself from falling apart, despite the terror you felt at hearing your friend’s senseless wailing in your head. You had _never_ heard them like this; they had seemingly lost every bit of composure they possessed. 

It was incredibly alarming.

“Sansss…this is the one I told you about…the little spy…” Another gasp of laughter. “So…so cuuurious…”

You reflexively started reciting the Lord’s Prayer in your head, trying to drown out your friend’s manic giggles.

“Th-this is a good— _good_!—one…Sansss…” The voice stuttered over its words in its excitement, and you trembled furiously. 

The hands began wandering from their place on your arms, one settling over your stomach, the fingertips digging into you painfully. You squeaked, the whining in your throat intensifying as the other hand pressed against your breasts, squeezing you like it was testing you for tenderness. Your gorge rose as your body betrayed you by instinctively arching into his touch. God, no, _please_ , you didn’t want to be aroused by the touch of a monster.

“H-he’s ssso… _ssssssooooo…_ sssssoooooofffft…so waaarmm and fullll…” The monster was practically quivering as it spoke, and you closed your eyes, panic threatening to burst through you. You focused on breathing instead of the crunching sound of feet stomping through dead leaves.

Breathe in…

Hold it…

Breathe out…

Breathe—

A oddly jointed hand grabbed your chin roughly, and your eyes flew open of their own accord. A scream rose in your throat, but died before it could emerge. Sans was standing over you, his arm exposed and revealed to be merely bone as he held your jaw in his large, powerful hand. You could feel the strength in him, and you knew he could crush your skull without a second thought. He turned your head slightly side-to-side, seeming to inspect you for something.

“It’s not a man, Papyrus.”

His voice was deep and heavy, resonating in your skull. You swayed as an image swam through your vision: a wall of long, pale arms reaching for you from the darkness, writhing and frenetic. You wanted to back away, but you were firmly caught by the thing Sans had called Papyrus. Sans’s gaze bore into yours, and you wanted to look away, to close your eyes, but the red, double-layered pupils shining from his eye sockets were hypnotic—they seemed to draw you in and hold you. You were so ashamed when tears began to burn behind your eyes.

“She’s already used, anyway. Toss her back.”

“Wh-what?” Papyrus breathed, disappointment clear in his unearthly voice. His hands gripped you harder, arms sliding around you in a mockery of a hug. You didn’t dare struggle. “No! It’s dressed like a man. It was talking to me with a man’s voice.”

You bit the flesh of your cheek hard. Oh, God, your disguise had somehow brought this on you. You were damned either way, weren’t you? Either you were taken advantage of for trying to hold a man’s position while guarding the Home, or you were mistaken for a man by murderous monsters and chosen for God-knew-what.

You felt a hysterical giggle press against your chest, but you did your best to repress it.

Without warning, Sans leaned in close to you, his face at your neck.

The giggle escaped forcefully, followed by a string of whiny, high-pitched laughter.

Sans breathed in heavily, and you had the ridiculous thought: how can he breathe if he is only made of bone?

More giggles fell from your lips, and hot tears tracked down your cheeks.

Your friend went deathly silent.

You were left alone with these beasts.

“Definitely not a man,” Sans remarked, his voice flat as he pulled away. You felt the arms around you tighten, and you gasped for breath, still giggling hysterically. Sans turned away without another word and went back to the bodies in the camp, taking one in his hands.

Papyrus was now holding you slightly off the ground, the toes of your boots scraping the mossy forest floor as you stiffened from lack of air.

“I don’t care!” he rasped, sounding like a petulant child. “She’s _mine_ —my _friend_!”

Sans was ignoring him, and if you were being honest, you were much less interested in what Papyrus was saying than what Sans was doing, too. Despite the former currently having you at his mercy.

Sans had his head bent over the large man’s body again, his jaw falling open to reveal just how intricately his teeth interlocked. As Papyrus had growled the word _friend_ , he had torn into the man’s neck and part of his shoulder, his jaw clicking audibly. Your mouth parted and a groan fell out from between your lips, unwarranted. Was he _eating_ the man?

“Y-you _are_ my friend, aren’t you?” Papyrus whispered in your ear, his hellish voice shaking with emotion. Your groan petered out into a croak. When you didn’t immediately respond, Papyrus’s arms began to quiver again, his hands flexing against your body. 

“Hey…you…yooou didn’t… _liiie_ to meee…did yooou?” Papyrus squeezed you hard enough that you couldn’t possibly answer him even if you weren’t so horrified by the sight of Sans’s jaw working against the dead man’s neck. No, he wasn’t _eating_ him. It looked more like…like…

Like he was _drinking their blood_.

That couldn’t be possible, though, surely?

If he was some sort of—of—of _revenant_ —some kind of mostly decomposed _zombie_ —then wouldn’t the blood run from between his bones? Wouldn’t it be falling to the earth?

“Whyyy…aren’t you _answering_ me?” Papyrus voice was much higher now, impatience and something akin to mania lining his words. The desperation in him was clear, and even more terrifying than his possessiveness. You had been at the mercy of another for years, now, but never had you been under such clawing pressure.

You opened your mouth to try to say something— _anything_ —but you couldn’t get the breath to save your own life. You were going to be crushed to death, just like the men Sans had murdered.

You wondered if he was going to drink from you like he drank from them.

“Hey,” Papyrus’s voice came, only a moment before a face appeared directly in front of yours, upside-down. You made another croaking groan as you pressed back against Papyrus’s hard body, your head cracking against his chest in your panicked attempt to retreat. It was a skull’s grin that grinned at you, then, wide and stained with blood. The red eyes in their oval sockets—not unlike Sans’s—flashed bright before settling back to a dull throb. “Don’t you _know_ how _rude_ it is to ignore a friend?”

Your mouth worked silently as you tried to respond, to apologise, to plead for your life. Whatever it took.

“That’s okay…” Papyrus hummed, his grin stretching across his face. “I forgive you.” He unfolded himself again, dropping you back to the ground and easing up on you. You took deep, gulping breaths, the white halo around your vision widening once more as you once again were faced with Sans. He had moved on to another victim, and if the body’s sickly pallor was any indication of the level of blood remaining in them, he would be moving on to the next soon.

One of Papyrus’s spindly hands moved from your body to stroke your hair, the other tracing the heart-shaped pebble through your shirt. You felt exposed—caught out. That’s right. _Papyrus_ had been the one to carve you the pendant. You trembled. Oh, what had you done with your damned curiosity!

“After all…it must be overwhelming for you to see what we do in the moonlight…” A soft sigh, and you felt a bony head rest against the top of yours. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it…?”

Sans dropped the body he had finished, and reached for the last one, his eyes moving to meet yours as Papyrus spoke.

He leaned down, and sank his teeth in.

Blood gushed from beneath his bite, oozing down the body.

You shivered again.

Looked away.

“It’s okay…” Papyrus gave you a nuzzle, and your stomach flopped. “You can watch. I know you want to. I know how much you wanted to see this.”

Your eyes flicked back to the sight of Sans bent over the dead man, his gaze still on you.

A stray thought slipped into your mind.

What would the blood taste like, fresh from the veins?

Pumping directly into your mouth.

Slipping down your throat.

Coating your stomach with its foul, coppery taste.

You licked your lips.

And forced yourself to look away.

The Blood Moon had risen.

“No, no…you should watch…I _insist_.”

Papyrus slid his hand down and held your chin tight, locking your head in the direction of Sans. You tried to struggle, but he was so strong. You were panting now, with the effort of being under such stress for so long. You closed your eyes to escape the strangely affecting image of Sans drinking, but as soon as you did, your eyelids were prised open again. You gave a muffled scream as Papyrus’s sharp fingers held you in place, his needle-like fingertips centimetres from your eyeballs.

“Don’t struggle…” Papyrus whispered enthusiastically, his arms holding you back against his chest. “Just…watch.”

You watched.

God help you, you watched.

Sans still had his eyes on you as you whimpered and trembled uncontrollably. He drank steadily, his teeth parting the tears in the man’s flesh.

Your eyes watered and tears spilled over onto Papyrus’s fingers.

You took a shuddering gasp through your clenched teeth. You couldn’t resist the thoughts pressing into your skull.

You weren’t strong enough alone.

You gave in.

Sweet, thick blood.

Your tongue working in tandem with your throat, suckling at the artery like a babe at the breast.

Eyes rolling with pleasure.

Sighs falling from your bloodied lips.

Heavy, fat, gorged stomach.

Heart’s nectar gathering between your thighs.

Lifeblood feeding the beast within.

You were shaking now.

You had to press your legs together to hide your shame.

Sans took a particularly deep draw of blood, and it spilled from between his teeth.

You ached to lick up the excess.

You could smell your arousal.

And your fear.

You let loose a sob.

And it was over.

Sans stood straight again, his eyes shadowed and deep.

“See?” Papyrus gloated, obviously pleased with himself. “I told you you would like it.”

You sobbed openly when he released your face, his arms enfolding your middle once more. You could feel the shallow cuts left behind by his fingers, on your cheeks and the sensitive skin around your eyes. You were limp, slumped forward as far as his arms would allow. Your mouth hung open as you cried ugly, retching tears, saliva falling to the earth below. 

You were so ashamed. You pleaded with the God you hadn’t believed in to forgive your sins. It wasn’t the sexual arousal that had disturbed you so deeply. You had explored your own body as you became a woman. Your friend had helped you realise that it was natural, and beneficial for you to do so. You had even come to terms with your taste for blood. It was simply a side effect of your friend’s inhabitance. But never, ever had you felt such true, lustful desire. You had been ready— _willing, eager_ —to beg for a taste of the blood, just a single drop. And you had no idea why. And so you had no other recourse for understanding your own disturbing thoughts than to default to faith.

As you struggled inwardly with your shame, Sans and Papyrus spoke overhead.

“Papyrus…let her go.”

“Sans, don’t be silly. Can’t you see how much she needs me right now? I’m her friend.”

The sound of Sans approaching.

His shoes came into your line of sight.

They were covered in blood.

“She’s not your friend. And she’s not going to be your pet, either. Drop her. We have to go; you’ve already made enough trouble tonight by following me.”

Papyrus’s arms grasped you back against him tight. Too tight. You could hardly breathe again.

“No! She’s _mine_. I _found_ her—she wants to be friends with me!”

You heard Papyrus’s breath quicken, becoming over-fast. A wheezing, choking sound was pressed out of you as he squeezed tighter. And tighter.

“Put her down, Papyrus.”

“ _No_!” Papyrus shrieked, his fingers digging into you, and you squealed like a piglet when they broke your flesh. You kicked your legs uselessly as he lifted you off the ground once more. “ _She’s miiiine_!”

You screamed as a crack resounded from your ribcage, pressure and pain lancing through you. Oh God you couldn’t breathe, something was wrong, you were going to die, you were going to die, you were going to—

“PAPYRUS.”

Sans’s booming, heavy voice struck you with a physical weight, and your panic soared. You were losing control. You were blacking out.

A loud, horrifying scream of annoyance rang in your ears, and for a brief second, you lost consciousness. You swam back up, gasping for breath that wasn’t there, just as you were thrown with great force to the ground. Great, blinding pain sent you back under for another few moments. A shouted, “ _Fine_!” woke you once more.

You watched through blurry, swimming vision as the two monsters left, Sans stepping over you without so much as a glance your way. Papyrus had dropped to all fours, and you felt a fresh wave of horror at the sight of his spider-like body as he skittered away, angrily muttering to himself.

As for you…

You were broken.

You struggled to breathe, each lungful tearing its way through your chest.

You tried to stand, but as soon as you made to sit up, you fell back down with a cry of pain.

Oh, God, this was bad.

You were rapidly losing control over your body.

You tried to call for help.

You tried to drag yourself along the ground.

You tried to stay awake.

Panic was overtaking you.

You were choking to death.

“Chara…” you whispered.

A stirring in your mind.

“Chara, please…”

Warmth bloomed from your chest outward.

“Chara, help me…”

Spectral limbs fitted themselves inside your own, and you smiled as your body rose to its feet, your vision awash with red.

 

**I’m here.**

**I’m sorry for leaving you.**

**I’ll take care of you now.**

**Don’t worry.**

**You’ll be safe.**

**Go to sleep.**

 

You obeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Frisk recuperates.
> 
> My tumblr has a first name, it's o-s-c-a-- I mean, tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> It's best to assume it's 18+.


	9. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Papyrus reflect on the human.

Sans knew that he would have to apologise to Papyrus sooner rather than later.

When he had left earlier that night, Papyrus hadn’t even looked at him. He had simply hung upside-down near the entrance to the Underground, his fingers and feet dug into the rocks as he sullenly refused to face him. He had just kept his eyes trained on the moonlit hole while Sans sighed to himself under his breath. Despite what had happened the night before, Papyrus was clearly hoping the human would return.

Sans was fairly certain she wasn’t going to.

He knew he had hurt Papyrus’s feelings by refusing to allow him to keep the human. And he was sorry for that. But he would absolutely do it again, if necessary.

If the human returned, it would be necessary.

Sans had never seen Papyrus so enamoured before. He did tend towards flights of fancy, but he had never tried anything foolish like this. And that’s exactly what keeping a human for a friend was. For everyone involved.

Sans had always tried to protect Papyrus, and the opposite as well, but he didn’t know how to protect his brother from himself. 

He _wanted_ Papyrus be happy.

It was why he did his duties without question.

But there had to be limits.

Letting Papyrus be friends with that human was definitely one of them.

But still. He knew he was going to have to apologise. He didn’t want to cause a rift. And since the human had, inexplicably, gotten under Papyrus’s proverbial skin, he would remain angry with Sans until they talked about it.

Sans sighed again.

Why couldn’t he have some good luck for a change?

It hadn’t been an easy Reaping; not that the work itself was difficult, because it wasn’t—but there was _so much_. He’d had to go further and further away from Mount Ebott for his hunts. He hated the city. But it was the only place he could reliably source humans without much of a fuss, or problems arising from people being missed.

The humans in the forest the night before, and the men who had unbelievably decided to camp directly by the entrance to Underground had been pretty lucky, he supposed. Not for them, obviously, but it had been nice to see some of his work practically delivered to his doorstep. 

But then Papyrus had lost his mind over the human, interrupting what had promised to be a fruitful night. 

Sans shook his head, his bones tingling as he slipped through the shortcut in the forest and stepped out onto cobblestones. The foul, organic smell of the city was always overpowering, and it was one of the reasons he hated going. But work was work, and the sooner he filled his quota, the sooner he could leave.

He hitched his bag over his shoulder, and set out.

Who was that human, anyway?

What was she trying to accomplish?

Lying to his brother. 

Telling him that she was his friend.

Hah. That was hilarious.

Humans were only good for one thing.And it certainly wasn’t friendly.

Though, if Sans was being honest, he _was_ feeling the barest hint of curiosity about her, himself. Why _had_ she been hanging around all week, peering down into Underground as though she was trying to figure out some great secret? He and Papyrus had been sitting together at the entrance, waiting to watch the first moonrise as they always had when a Cycle began. When a face looked down over the edge, he had assumed she was a hunter who was merely unlucky enough to find the entrance, tucked away as it was. He had very nearly gone up to the surface to take her, but she had left in a hurry before he could, making the decision for him. He and Papyrus had shrugged and gone back to watching the sky, content just to forget about the odd human.

But then she came back.

He hadn’t been there when she’d come back later that night, as he had already left to start the Reaping, but Papyrus had told him about it. His words had been incredibly disjointed, so hard was it for him to disguise his excitement over what he had assumed was the human tossing presents down to him.

Sans hadn’t felt the need to convince him otherwise.

How could he have known that Papyrus would take it so seriously?

Sans had told himself that he would just let him have his fun, and that he would take the human once Papyrus had gotten bored. He had left his brother to it while he got on with his work, happy with that plan. It had been a long time since he’d seen Papyrus so animated. It was nice, if not a little strange that it had been a human to bring him such excitement.

When he found out that the human had told Papyrus she was a friend, though, he had rubbed the ridge above his eye sockets, exhaustion settling into his bones. He hadn’t said anything to his brother then, either, but he had known that he would have to, soon. Something bad would happen and Papyrus would be upset, and Sans would feel bad for not trying to temper his brother’s expectations sooner. Papyrus was smart, but he had a desperation in him that tended to cloud his judgement.

Sans, on the other hand, had long ago learned how easy it was to stop caring and just let himself exist, carrying out his duties with only the required effort.

Everyone had their faults.

It just happened that Sans’s didn’t hardly get him into trouble, where Papyrus’s definitely had.

Ugh. That human had made things so much more _difficult_.

Especially now that he was certain she was a woman.

He had had an idea that she might be, when he’d spotted her walking on the mountain. There was something to the way she held herself. It wasn’t exactly feminine, but…it definitely wasn’t a man’s swagger. When he had taken her face in his hand, he had felt the  slight structure of her bones and the softness of her skin where normally there would be at least some stubble. Not to mention the smell of her. As soon as his bones had met her skin, he had been _overwhelmed_ with the smell of her. It had shocked him for two reasons—one being that he had never had to be _close_ to a human to smell them, before.

He had thought—before that moment, at least—that if she _was_ a woman, she might be experiencing some version of the Calling. But that was impossible. It was too early. And even if she was simply that intensely susceptible to the Call, there was the other reason for his surprise: her pregnancy. There was no mistaking the smell of a pregnant human, and she was practically drenched in it.

Which only confused him further.

Because pregnant women did _not_ feel the Call.

The whole situation was incredibly odd, at best. It was like a puzzle whose pieces appeared to match, but when he tried to put them together to make the whole picture, it just came out jumbled and nonsensical. It was frustrating Sans to think about, so he decided to put it aside for later.

He always thought better when he talked to Papyrus.

Tying his sack tight enough to keep the humans inside from thrashing and breaking free, he set back off to where the permanent shortcut waited for him. He’d been relatively lucky this time. Another batch of large, healthy males. They looked as though they might even make up for the numbers lost the night before. He made a mental note of that part of the city. He had seen several other groups of males he could have taken on the way, but they had looked a little too weedy for his purposes.

If things got desperate, though…

Not that they weren’t nearing desperate already. Sans had worked himself to the bone trying to find suitable males in the surrounding region, but it seemed especially devoid. He had seen newspaper headlines shouting about the war so he assumed that meant the men had been shipped off to fight.

Which explained the difficulty he was having, but did nothing to allay his frustration.

It wasn’t like anybody in Underground was interested in hearing excuses.

He realised he was grinding his teeth and forced himself to stop thinking about it.

One problem at a time.

And the first thing he had to take care of was Papyrus’s obsession.

After he deposited his quarry, of course.

He did so quickly once he returned, leaning over the receptacle and letting the bit of blood he’d collected pour from his summoned throat, as well. He hadn’t meant to kill the man, but he’d been distracted by thoughts of the human and Papyrus, and had struck with a bit too much force. Oh well. He’d already collected plenty of live males for this Cycle. Any others he brought now were merely for his benefit. He hated how much effort it took to maintain his magic when he had to hold the blood, so if he could get them alive, it was just…easier.

He turned without watching the dumbwaiter descend into the darkness and stepped through a shortcut to his and Papyrus’s house. Papyrus was waiting for him, sitting cross-armed and -legged on his bed, scowling at nothing.

Sans tried a smile.

“Hey, pal.”

Papyrus just scowled more.

“S-sheee didn’t come b-b-baaack.”

Sans sat backwards on a ragged chair, leaning his head on his folded arms.

“Didn’t think she would.”

Papyrus seemed to shrink a bit, his eyes turning to the floor.

“Y-you drove a-awaaay my only friend.”

“I’m your friend.” Sans said, strangely hurt by Papyrus’s dismissive tone.

“A f-friend would have wanted me to be h-happy.”

Sans sighed, tucking his head into his arms.

“‘Pyrus, you know I want you to be happy. but you can’t be friends with a human. None of us can.”

“Has anyone even _tried_?” Sans looked back up as Papyrus leaned forward eagerly, his eyes flashing. Sans debated with himself over how to respond. He didn’t exactly want to dash Papyrus’s hopes, but he couldn’t let his enthusiasm get the better of him.

“ _You_ just tried.”

Papyrus made a growling, whining sound, and Sans knew he had really annoyed him with that. He was digging his hands into the already shredded duvet. “That’s not fair and you know it. It would have gone better if you hadn’t been there to ruin it.”

“You hurt her, just because _I_ said no to you being her friend. What if _she_ says no?”

Papyrus flinched back, his mouth dropping open. “I hurt her?” His voice quavered, going small and quiet.

“You broke her ribs. Didn’t you wonder what that crack was?”

“I…I didn’t know,” Papyrus whispered, looking down at his hands. Sans knew exactly what he was feeling. The first time he had crushed a human’s bones, he had been surprised at how fragile they were. It was so _easy_ to hurt humans. They were practically designed to be prey.

Lucky for him, he’d never wanted them as anything other than prey.

Papyrus looked back up to him, his eyes wide and full of resolve. “Sans, I have to go to her. I know she isn’t going to come back after what I did, but I have to apologise.”

Sans unconsciously drew his brow bones together. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She was terrified. She probably wouldn’t be too happy to see you.”

“Maybe it was just you she was afraid of,” Papyrus suggested, and Sans shrugged a shoulder. “You _were_ being quite the brute.”

Sans thought of the look in the human’s eyes as he had collected the blood from the men. The way she watched him with such a direct, unwavering gaze, as though she was starving and he was holding an entire Christmas dinner. 

Somehow he had the feeling it hadn’t been merely fear in those eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Well, regardless, I feel I have to try. It’s what a friend would do.” Papyrus stood in one motion, his long legs bent as he peered down at Sans with a smile. “Thank you, brother. I feel much calmer now.”

“You’re…welcome?” Sans looked up at Papyrus through heavily lidded eyes before his brother loped towards the door. Sans stood up as well, then. “Hey, wait. are you going now?”

Papyrus didn’t turn as he said, “Of course. No time like the present.”

Sans clenched his teeth with worry, following Papyrus. It was almost morning. If Papyrus walked down the mountain, he might be seen by the time he reached the Home. It was a dangerous place even while under the cover of darkness. Sans knew there were guards always on watch there, and in the surrounding area. 

He would have to go with Papyrus.

“Okay. But let me come with you. I know a shortcut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Frisk is recuperating.
> 
> Tumblr at tellcosy.tumblr.com THIS IS WHERE THE BLOGS LIVE, COME GITCHU ONE


	10. Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chat with your friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAN ARTS OH MY GOD:
> 
>  
> 
> [ Papyrus Hears a New Friend by SilverLou ](http://silverlou01.tumblr.com/image/141785424513)  
> [ Ominous Creatures by HibernalBeast](http://hibernalbeast.tumblr.com/image/141852238405)  
> [ Gore Cuties by TheBindingBird (NSFW - Gore) ](http://thebindingbird.tumblr.com/image/141881916072)
> 
>  
> 
> Go give love to the artists, guys. They're all so good. <3

There were 485 stars in the window.

At least.

You had lost track slightly while having a fit, but you were pretty sure you had remembered where you left off.

The moon had left your sight a long time ago, which was nice. The hours it looked in on you were like agony. You wanted to run wild and hunt with abandon, but you couldn’t even scratch an itch if you wanted to. In fact, you had several itches you couldn’t scratch, right now.

**Shouldn’t be too much longer.**

Thank God.

**I would say I told you this would happen, but I’m much too gracious for that.**

That was good, because if your _friend_ hadn’t left you when you’d needed them most, you probably _wouldn’t_ be chained to your bed. It was good they were gracious enough to stay and keep you sane.

**Yes, yes, fine, I know.**

You were sure they knew. Because they, too, were stuck in this bed, ankles and wrists cuffed to the four corners. They, too, could feel how every surge of power through your shared body sent a wave of pain through your every nerve, like needles stabbing through your skin. They, too, could feel the horror of losing control of their pelvic muscles when hard spasms shook their body, soaking their night dress and bed beneath them. They, too, had to wait, and wait, and wait for the frail human body they shared to stop being hysterical from the takeover it had endured.

**No need to be so cheeky.**

No, there wasn’t any _need_. But every time you were forced to lay in your bed for days at a time, silently contemplating your existence and how it had come to this, you did get a bit miffed.

**At least you don’t have to waste time wondering how you got to this point this time.**

You closed your eyes, unwilling to smile at your friend’s joke. If they wanted to talk about cheeky…

**But truly, would you like to talk now about why exactly you lost your mind this past week?**

You flinched. You had been ignoring that very question for hours, already. You knew you couldn’t ignore it forever. But it was difficult to think about, and embarrassing, even if you only spoke of it to your friend.

**I just want to know how to stop it from happening again.**

Well, that much was easy. You just wouldn’t go back to the hole again. After what had happened—seeing the monsters that lived inside it—you would simply keep your distance from it. You didn’t have to give up your adventuring. You didn’t think you _could_. But you knew you wouldn’t be venturing anywhere near that mouth of hell again.

You had learned your lesson about curiosity when it spit in the face of reason.

**Have you? Because I’m not convinced you have.**

You frowned slightly, the inside of your eyebrows meeting for a moment. You weren’t at all sure what your friend was speaking of. You hadn’t had a single thought of returning to the hole since you had woken in the Home, restrained as usual after your friend had to take control of your body. You didn’t like it—you never did—but it was a small price to pay to survive through what you had been put through. Your friend had saved your life, again.

**I told you—gracious.**

You thought it perhaps had more to do with your body being your friend’s favourite vessel, but if they wanted to appear grand, you wouldn’t take them down a notch.

**I don’t need to _appear_ grand.**

You smiled, though it turned to a grimace. Your face was still sore from its mistreatment at Papyrus’s hands. At the thought of the monster and what it had done to you, you felt a shudder roll through you, followed quickly by another wave of pain. You felt your body take deep, calming breaths for you, and you managed to stave off another fit because of it. You turned your head to face the window again, eyes burning with unshed tears. You thanked your friend mutedly.

**Don’t thank me. It’s my job to protect you, even if it’s from yourself.**

You began counting the stars again. It helped to relieve your panic at not being able to move. You could imagine yourself walking amongst the stars. It made you feel like you were part of something bigger than yourself, more special. 

**Trust me, there’s nothing special about those.**

You sighed softly, your fingers twitching to scratch the itch at your side. Your rib must be nearly healed, then. You were getting the same bruised feeling on the skin there as your face had.

**Yes, it’s probably fine to just let it heal naturally from now. It will be sore for a few days, but as we’ll be stuck here, anyway…**

You chewed your already broken lip. You flicked your tongue against the slow ooze of blood. It didn’t nothing to sate the hollow in your stomach. Once you were no longer bedridden, you would be needing several rare pieces of meat, it seemed.

**We can go hunting on the mountain.**

You didn’t trust yourself to go near the mountain, at least while the Blood Moon was still addling your thoughts.

**Is that truly the reason for your obsession?**

You thought it must be. You had never been so reckless before. You were fascinated by the occult, it was true, but you had always thought that, when you were presented with a dangerous situation, you would be _careful_. But you hadn’t been. You had followed Sans, knowing he was horribly _wrong_ , somehow. Knowing he had been murdering people.

And worst of all, you had known Papyrus was in the hole, too. You had simply neglected to plan for the possibility that _he_ would follow _you_.

A hot wash of shame enveloped you. You didn’t want to think about what had happened anymore.

**Don’t you think it would be better to come to terms with it, so that you can move on from here?**

You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. You just wanted to forget it all and act like nothing had ever happened. That you had simply hallucinated the entire experience. You didn’t want to know that there were monsters out there who had forced you to see into one of the darker corners of your soul.

You felt tainted.

**It isn’t so bad as that.**

You strongly begged to differ.

**You already knew you had a taste for blood. It’s only natural for you to.**

It wasn’t your taste for blood.

**Then what is it? The arousal? That’s natural, too. You can’t help your body’s reaction to stimulus. It isn’t your fault.**

It wasn’t the arousal.

**Then I don’t understand. Explain it to me.**

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw. It wasn’t something you could just _explain_. It was something you didn’t even understand, yourself! You had been caught off guard because of your own hubris, held prisoner, and nearly crushed to death. You had been touched, cut, and squeezed like so much meat. You had been _invaded_ —by the horrific visions and by your unwanted sexual desires.

You had been _abandoned_.

**…I said I was sorry.**

You knew that. But it didn’t stop the hurting.

**All I can do is promise you it won’t happen again.**

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes and you wanted to dash them away. You didn’t want to be crying. It felt like weakness. The last thing you needed after everything was to feel weak.

**Go ahead.**

You didn’t _want to_.

**Do it. It will help.**

You fought back the tide for as long as you could before giving in, a cracked, broken sob bursting from you. You wanted to cover your face and hide away, but you couldn’t. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet, but it hardly helped. You knew someone would hear you.

**Who gives a damn.**

You did. You _did not_ want any of the girls or sisters thinking you weren’t strong enough to protect them. You didn’t want them to assume you couldn’t handle yourself out there, when the time came. You wanted them to think of you as strong. Infallible.

**No one is infallible.**

A stray image of Sans and Papyrus flashed through your mind.

**Not even them.**

You made a horrible snuffling sound, a choking giggle forcing its way from your throat. You thought about how terrified your friend had been. You had never known them to be scared of anything, even when you were putting yourself in danger. They had simply scolded you when you did something like that. You had never heard such real, actual _fear_.

**It wasn’t…them.**

You didn’t understand.

**The thing I was afraid of had nothing to do with them. They are more akin to the dogs heading the hunt.**

Your brows knitted together. You understood what your friend meant. And it sounded ominous.

**It is.**

You wondered, if Sans and Papyrus were the dogs, who the master was. It was a chilling thought.

**If I’m honest, I’m not certain what it could even be. I can’t see anything about it. And that’s why I’m so frightened.**

You were shocked. There was something out there, giving orders to Sans and Papyrus and God knew what else, that even your friend couldn’t comprehend? That was an ill omen for everyone.

**Perhaps. That’s why we need to find out what, or who, exactly, it is. And if it’s a threat.**

You would wager a bet that it was.

**So would I. Which is why I think we should keep an eye on the two dogs, despite what I’ve said before.**

You blanched. Surely, your friend was joking with you? You couldn’t be expected to go back to the mountain. You couldn’t get anywhere close to it. You couldn’t risk seeing those monsters again—having them capture you—hold you prisoner in that pit—!

**Calm down. You won’t be hurt again.**

There was no way for your friend to know that. There was no way to know that you wouldn’t be killed—harvested—drained of all your lifeblood until you were nothing but a desiccated husk. You wouldn’t do it. You _couldn’t_ do it.

There was a long silence before you felt your muscles tensing slowly. It made your heart thump anxiously. What? What did your friend know that you didn’t?

**Well, it seems like we don’t have a choice.**

Oh, no.

**Suppose it’s time for a little faith.**

You absolutely _did not_ like the implication of your friend’s words.

**Ready to be thrown into the deep end?**

The window was rattling softly.

Your eyes were wide, your stomach clenched.

The window was _opening_.

You whimpered, turning your head and closing your eyes tight. You couldn’t look. You couldn’t see what was coming into your room under the cover of night. You already knew. You already _knew_.

“H-h-hellllooo, h-h-hu-humannn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: a peace offering.
> 
> This is my tumblr! It was made for me! tellcosy.tumblr.com


	11. Peace Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift for the new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say before we get started so thanks for reading to this point. Hope you like this one.

 

**Breathe…**

You breathed in, your eyes so tightly shut that you thought you would never open them again. You hiccoughed deep in your gut, trembling as the pane of the window rattled. You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering as you exhaled.

**Breathe…**

You breathed in, your eyes refusing to see what was creeping through your window.

Scratching at your floors.

Crawling…along…your…bed…

**Breathe!**

You choked on the gasp of air you forced into your lungs as your eyes flew open, staring up into dark, dark eye sockets that hovered only inches from your face. You croaked with fear, your mouth falling open as you pressed your head back into your pillow.

“O-oooh…h-h-huuumannnn…I…I th-thought…you m-m-miiiight be asleeeep…”

The soft, whispery, feather-light voice that creaked and cracked and snapped and groaned and slipped into your ears like paper rustling through fingers that no longer held life sent a bolt of terror through your heart until you were shuddering, shaking, writhing, arching, your muscles pulling, your heart pounding, your mind screaming, screaming, screaming—

**BREATHE.**

couldn’t breathe, couldn’t obey, couldn’t _think_ , panicking. panicking. PANICKING too gone, too gone, too gone, body pulling apart, ripping, tearing screaming at the seams screaming at the cracks broken in half in fourth all limbs straining to free from the bonds the chains the dirty little stains cupping your skin and flaying you slipping your skin on like petticoats on pretty little girls in the autumn with slices on their necks on their spines on their sweet little curls falling in the wind down down down down dow

**Wake up, poppet.**

couldn’t see couldn’t hear look for herhimthemtheyusweall looking for you looking for you? you don’t need looking for you are fine fine dripping in brine on the sea the cloudy swinging everybody singing salty earthy sandy scratchy scratchy scratchy sea and the swollen womb of the earth surrounding the seeds the seeds the rotten seeds who scatter and pollinate herself himself themselves with love and hate and blood ohhhh ohhhhh blood oh lovely mouth of blood and the eyes that follow as it dribble drabbles down your lips they want those lips you want them to want them you want to want them

**Come on, poppet, come back to me.**

back back back coming back to the town with a loud little brown dog jumping up and bouncing and screaming the wheels bursting and breaking and oh dear oh dear oh dear don’t look sweetie oh it’s awful oh no don’t look and you don’t but you do with eyes of blood that sing and sway and call out to you to the ones the special ones only them only you only you are special special special special want to be with you forever do you want to be with me I want to be with you please don’t leave me please I’m not ready not ready not ready to say to say goodbye don’t go don’t go don’t go

**Forgive me, darling. This may hurt.**

forgive the one the all the mother the father the friend the foe the holy the devil the earth the moon the moon the moon oh the moon with her sweet shining face looking over you with her lover’s eyes whispering love letters to your heart you want to take her and kiss her and lick and taste and spill inside until there is none of you left until you are the same the one the one the one oh oh ohhh yesss the one! the one and the all and the moon and you and them oh them oh yesss yes y

There was a wall now.

Where had this wall come from?

It hadn’t been there before.

You touched it. It was solid.

You smelled it. It smelled of nothing.

You tasted it.

Ahh, now you knew that taste.

The taste of life.

You tasted again.

Oh.

You were beginning to remember.

You leaned against the wall.

You sank your teeth into it.

It moaned.

Flesh wrapped around you, slithering and snaking across your body until you wore it as a second skin. You breathed deeply inside it, the warmth sinking into you. Ahh. You nearly remembered.

The other self wrapped around your body tighter and tighter until it struck through the surface of your skin. You jerked back in pain, but made no sound. This was familiar. This was much better than the chaos. This was…

Ahhh.

You remembered.

You were you.

And they were they.

You opened your eyes.

At first, all you could see was red. You had to blink the remnants of your possession away, your tears washing the bloody film from your vision. When you could see a bit, you realised that there was a very large hand covering the whole of your lower face, barely leaving any clearance for you to breathe.

Ah, that must be Papyrus, then.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room and you picked out the silhouette of the rail-thin man. Monster. Ah, it didn’t matter anymore. You could feel a trembling of fear deep down in your human heart, but that was thankfully numbed now.

You could hardly feel anything at the moment, though emotions were returning steadily.

**Better now?**

You were much better.

**I suppose that answers the question of whether or not you were ready.**

You smiled against the angular hand, looking up into the monster’s wide eye sockets that were much farther away now than before your fit. Papyrus was leaning away as far as he could, while still holding a hand over your mouth. Another wave of emotion passed through you, but before you could even examine it, it was shuffled away, numbed from your heart. There was a soft rattle coming from Papyrus’s direction, and upon further inspection of the rest of him, you realised he was, indeed, a full skeleton. 

His tattered black shirt only covered him as far as the middle of his ribcage, exposing his long, arched spine. Your eyes were drawn to the blood stains that dripped down his spine and fell towards his trousers. You followed the line of it until you spotted part of his hip bones poking up from his ragged black trousers, but you became strangely shy at looking at the creature’s pelvic region. How utterly ridiculous of you—there were no organs there to be shy _of_. And yet you still moved your eyes away. 

You met his—eyes?—again, and you were surprised to see how much concern you could glean from them, even though they were merely eye sockets. They, and the rest of his blood-stained face—from the soft vertical ridges in the bone above both his eyes, to the short, sharp interlocking teeth—were capable of emoting. It was all somehow…malleable. You almost forgot to be afraid in your sudden urge to touch his face and find how exactly bone could shift in such a way. 

But as soon as he began speaking, the fear spiked in your heart once more, though it was swiftly numbed by your friend. Once they had, you put together that the rattling you’d heard was due to what must be—preposterous as it was to imagine—Papyrus’s own fear.

“Hh-hhhumm-huuumannn,” he groaned softly, and you could now hear the nervous quality to the monster’s words. You had an odd thought pass through your mind, wondering how exactly he spoke. His mouth would open and shut occasionally, but not always, and sound would always emerge. “Are you o-okaaay n-noww? C-c-can I t-take m-my hand away, o-or-orrr will you…scream?”

You briefly thought that over. Would you scream if you had the chance? Would you try to call for help?

You almost laughed.

No.

Even if your friend hadn’t tamped down your fear, you would still keep quiet. It would be stupid to scream, when those fingers could shred you without a thought.

You shook your head as much as you could, while still being held.

Papyrus’s teeth suddenly clicked together in a wide smile, and he made to remove his hand from your face. He froze when a voice came from the window behind him, from outside.

“Just because she says she won’t doesn’t mean she’s telling the truth, Papyrus.”

Sans.

You recognised the voice before you even comprehended the words he spoke, or looked to see who was speaking. There was no other voice like it on Earth, you thought. Dark, deep and rich, pressing inside your ears with some heady, ethereal force, filling the emptiness there with its sonorant quality. It made you dizzy to hear the two creatures speaking together, they differed so drastically. Not to mention just how hard you could feel your friend working to keep your fear in check. Papyrus had hurt you, true, but Sans was the one whom you’d seen tear a man apart with his teeth alone.

Papyrus’s head snapped up and back to look at the window, where Sans was leaning against the sill, his back turned to you as he stood outside. You wondered why he was there, and why he hadn’t come in. You asked neither.

“Don’t be so untrusting, Sans! It’s horribly unbecoming!” Papyrus snapped, and your eyes opened marginally wider, slightly taken aback by the lack of stutter in his words. You had assumed that was simply the way his voice functioned. He was a horror, after all, and shouldn’t he have a horror’s voice? He turned back to you with another smile, and you thought it looked apologetic. “P-pl-please don’t m-mind him, human…he’s al-always like that.”

You saw Sans shoot a dark, annoyed look over his shoulder at you from the corner of your eye. You were still looking up at Papyrus, waiting for him to remove his hand so you could take more than shallow breaths. You had begun to feel more than a bit dizzy, and tingles were running up your legs from where Papyrus kneeled against them.

You made a soft humming sound against his hand to let him know you wouldn’t take it to heart.

**You’re doing very well.**

Your friend’s whispered voice was strangely strained, and you wondered just how much power they were using to keep your fear in check. You thought it was probably quite a lot, considering how well you were taking this situation. You were completely at Papyrus’s and Sans’s mercy. There was no way you could free yourself, if they threatened you. If they wanted to free you themselves and take you away, they could. If they wanted to hurt you, they could.

They could do absolutely anything to you, and you would have no ability to stop them.

You were okay with that.

**Believe me…you aren’t okay with this.**

You believed them.

“Oo-oh! Pl-please forgive m-m-me, hhhhuman. I f-f-forgot you require b-b-breath!” Papyrus’s eyes went wide, and he snatched his hand away from your mouth. You took a deep, cleansing breath, and you felt the tension in your mind ease just a little. That was better. 

Papyrus had his head in his hands, shaking it side-to-side. “Ooohhh, and a-a-after I c-caaame here to a-a-apo-po-pooologise, too! P-perhaps Sssans is r-r-right after allll—”

“Papyrus,” you cut off the skeleton monster’s increasingly upset words with a soft whisper of your own. He stopped immediately, eyes wide as he looked down at you with his hands still on his head. “I’m alright.”

He looked unsure, still. “I-I didn’t hurrrt yooou?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t mind. I could still breathe a little.”

You felt your friend huff slightly with amusement, and you wondered why they were laughing at you.

**No, you didn’t _mind_ that at all.**

You didn’t have time to question your friend’s implication, as Papyrus was now smiling wide, his hands back on the bed. You found him much less frightening with a smile, though how much of that was because of your friend’s help, you couldn’t tell. He seemed much less…alien.

“Oh, th-that’s good! I w-wassss so worried I h-had hurt you! A-agaaain, I mean! I-I d-didn’t m-mean to f-frighten y-you, h-h-human, I j-jus-just wanted to say…that I was sorry!”

After spitting out the last of his words with wide, nervous eyes, Papyrus leaned forward again, bouncing once, his face peering down into yours. When he was so close, you could pinpoint the scents coming from him: something like moth balls, the smell of a hot attic room after being sealed all summer, and of course the metallic, coppery smell of blood. “So I—I brought you a p-present! A friendship present!” Papyrus whispered excitedly, his voice shaking slightly. You could tell he was trying to restrain himself. “I h-h-hope you like it!”

Without waiting for an answer, Papyrus skittered off of you and your bed, moving on all fours again as he dropped to the floor. His feet slipped a bit on the stone in his rush to reach the window, where Sans was waiting with an unimpressed look on his heavy features. He wasn’t watching Papyrus as the taller skeleton scrambled through the window, clumsy in his urgency. He was facing you now, his eyes direct and distrustful. He deliberately crossed his arms over his chest, and when your eyes flicked down because of the motion, you saw that his jacket was hanging off of him now.

You and your friend both made note of that.

Sans noticed you staring and frowned, the bone ridge over his eye sockets lowering deeply. He looked very intimidating, and you were sure if you weren’t fully numbed, you would be terrified.

As it was, you merely stared back into his eyes, unable to help the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

You almost laughed when he looked away, off to where Papyrus presumably left to.

“So, human. You gonna tell us what that shit was, earlier?”

You were definitely smiling now.

The gruff voice, the hunched shoulders, even the way he turned his head just to give you a sidelong glance—Sans was obviously, positively _nervous_.

You absolutely had to know what had caused this, and if you could somehow replicate it. Because if there was a way for _you_ to make those two creatures nervous, then surely your friend would be able to handle them if push came to shove.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You were no longer attempting to use your man’s voice with either of the monsters, considering they were already aware of your disguise. Not to mention the fact that it was fairly difficult to hide your shape when you were wearing nothing but a thin night dress. It just saved you a bit of effort for you to drop the ruse entirely.

“Don’t try to be cute with me, human.”

Sans was not amused in the slightest with your attempt at mystery, that much was obvious. You felt your friend chuckling softly to themselves. They had always appreciated someone who could cut straight to the point, despite their natural affiliation with shadows and deception. Perhaps that was precisely why they appreciated it. Someone like Sans presented a challenge for them.

You found yourself intrigued, as well. The way the larger monster spoke seemed as though he wanted nothing to do with you. So why was he here with Papyrus?

You licked your lips and cleared your throat. “I’m afraid you’ll simply have to be more clear, Mister…?”

The deep red pupils sunk into the depths of Sans’s eye sockets seemed to pulse slowly—one, twice. It reminded you of a heartbeat. “You know my name.”

“It’s still considered polite to introduce oneself to someone they have never formally met.”

Your soft, lilting voice was strange to hear in your own ears. You were no longer the lady to whom that voice belonged to. It was as though a stranger was using your body to speak.

Sans snorted, and one of your eyebrows twitched up in surprise. It was such a human sound, a snort. Perhaps it wouldn’t so difficult to speak with the monsters, after all.

“If you think I’m polite company, then you need some higher standards,” he murmured, his eyes shifting back to the grounds of the Home. You wondered if Papyrus was returning, then. “Anyway, my name is Sans. Not that you didn’t already know.” He threw a glance back at you, growling with slight petulance. “Leave out the ‘Mister.’” 

“Hello, Sans,” you responded immediately, happy with how pleasantly you were managing the conversation. Your mother would have been proud of you. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Uh,” was all you got in response. He didn’t even look back at you.

You smiled wider.

Just then, you heard Papyrus’s fingers grip into the stone around the windowsill, and he folded himself through the small gap like a spider slipping under a door frame. You heard him muttering a scolding to Sans about ‘watching his language’ in the background of your mind, but your attention was caught on the thing caught between Papyrus’s long, long fingers.

A hare, missing its head and hanging limp within Papyrus’s grasp.

You could smell its blood.

Your mouth filled with saliva.

Papyrus turned to you with a smile from where he clung to the wall, and your heart began pounding with anticipation. Had he brought that for you? Was that your present?

You quickly got your answer to that question when Papyrus leapt over to your bed, gripping to the side to keep from tumbling over. He was making little whines and creaks, and you could tell how excited he was when he said,

“I…I saw how hungry you looked, before…s-s-sssooo…I thought you might want to sh-share a meal?”

You were practically hypnotised by the sight of the blood on the body of the hare. Your stomach growled and flopped. You began to pant softly with want. Should you? You weren’t supposed to drink blood in the Home. You had told the matron you would keep to raw meats. You knew how uneasy it made the sisters when they found you with blood around your mouth. 

You were so _hungry_.

But you couldn’t.

 _You wanted it_.

But you…shouldn’t.

Papyrus crept closer to you, the hare held just over your chest. “Ohh, do you n-need help s-sitting up? I can take these off for you,” he crooned, reaching for your manacles.

You jerked out of your trance long enough to cry, “No!” and shake your head. Papyrus seemed startled, but you quickly reassured him by murmuring, “No, that’s okay, Papyrus. I need those to keep me safe from…from myself.”

You saw Sans watching you with great interest out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t want to look at him just now. You were still interested in your present. You could feel your friend’s intense, immediate attention on it, as well. It had been a long, long while since you’d had fresh blood. You had begun to resist the urge to imbibe, once you’d taken on your role as guard. You hadn’t wanted to worry the wards or sisters.

**But they…they aren’t here right now…**

You could feel the desire from your friend as a physical force. Your back arched slightly, your gaze caught on the blood still dripping down the hare’s fur.

“You mean protect yourself from what happened earlier?”

Sans. Damn the beast, he could obviously tell how urgent your need was, and was taking advantage of it. You tore your eyes from the blood and met his gaze, which was keen and direct, though something else was hidden beneath that you couldn’t quite see.

“Yes,” you bit out impatiently.

Papyrus was watching Sans, the hare still dangling just out of your reach. It looked as though he was waiting for some kind of approval. Or perhaps he was merely curious about it, too.

Sans smiled in a not particularly friendly way. “Why?”

You writhed slightly, and a throaty whine escaped you, your eyes flicking back to the bloody hare. You were going to miss out on the warmth, the nourishment, the sweetness—

“Hey,” Sans snapped, and your eyes returned to his, drawn by the force of his unspoken command to _look at him_. “Answer the question, and you can eat.”

You huffed out a breath, hesitating for another moment. Your friend groaned.

**Just tell him the least he needs to know. We need this. _I_ need this.**

“Because I have fits that cause me to convulse. I…lose control of my own body. Sometimes I can…hurt myself. The matron locks me in so I don’t.”

Sans just stared in your eyes for a few long, excruciating seconds, his gaze penetrating yours. You squirmed under his inspection, but he seemed to believe you. Or he accepted your answer, at the very least, as he nodded to Papyrus after another handful of heartbeats, and you could have cried with joy at that simple gesture.

“I’ll j-just hold your head for you, then,” Papyrus said, smiling at your eagerness as you lifted your head for him to support. Your mouth was already open and ready for your first taste. When he carefully slit a long cut down the body of the hare and spilled the blood down your throat, you groaned, your toes curling. 

You closed your eyes tight at the copper bite, your teeth aching to sink into the flesh as well, but you were at Papyrus’s mercy. When he pulled away after a few more mouthfuls, you whined in protest, and he giggled. “Don’t worry, hungry human, I’m not going to take much!”

You watched him flay the skin away with deft fingers and nibble at the raw flesh there before his eyes pulsed just as Sans’s had earlier. Once, twice—thump, thump—and a long red tongue-like appendage appeared from behind his teeth and lapped at the blood oozing from inside. Your found your heart pounding in time with the pulse of his eyes, waiting for your turn once more.

When it came, you instantly sank your teeth into the soft flesh Papyrus had offered up to your lips. Your whole body shuddered with pleasure. 

**Ahh…**

Yesss…

**Ahhhhh…**

“Guess the human liked your present, Papyrus.”

You snapped back from your state of euphoria to see Papyrus watching you with an intensely pleased smile. You realised you both had devoured the majority of the carcass while you had been in your bloodlust. You nearly fell into intense shame over your wildness, but you knew how much you and your friend had needed that. You had been exhausted recently, running on such small stores of power.

They weren’t small anymore.

“I think so, too, Sans!” Papyrus exclaimed, giving another small bounce as he tossed away the remains. Sans caught them. “I’m so happy you liked it, human! I hope this means you forgive me!”

**Hah…if he and that big teddy bear of his keep bringing presents like that, it would be hard not to.**

You couldn’t help but agree.

“I…I do, Papyrus,” was all you could manage with your throat still sticky with blood.

Papyrus’s eyes pulsed once and he smiled wide, opening his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by Sans cursing viciously. You found yourself looking over at him with alarm to find him facing the now-rising sun.

“Papyrus, time to go!”

**Wait, no—not yet!**

You strained against your shackles as Papyrus obeyed the other monster after one more glance down at you, jumping from your bed to the windowsill.

“Wait—Papyrus!” you called in the quietest voice you could. He and Sans both turned to face you, their eyes urgent. “Please come back tonight.”

Sans looked absolutely taken aback by your words, but Papyrus only smiled again and whispered loudly back at you,

“Of course, human friend!”

He leapt through the window at that and was gone.

But Sans remained for another moment, his eyes watching you with confusion, before he too was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A friendly chat with the Matron.
> 
> Tumblr be all like: tellcosy.tumblr.com


	12. An Accord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, Matron, for I have sinned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FANNNNNN ARRRRRRRRRT:
> 
>  
> 
> [ Possessed Frisk by SilverLou ](http://silverlou01.tumblr.com/post/142206675673/yyyyyeearrrgg-tellcosy-welp-guess-what-i-did)  
> [ Papyrus Was Very Close by The Binding Bird ](http://thebindingbird.tumblr.com/post/142090373157/just-how-close-was-paps-to-the-opening-of-the-hole)  
> [ Papyrus Looms Over Frisk by HibernalBeast ](http://hibernalbeast.tumblr.com/post/142370868330/fanart-time-creepy-creepy-crawlies-in-other)
> 
>  
> 
> Again, these are all so GOOD, everyone go high-five the artists, please! <3
> 
> So...now for the chapter that will definitely raise more questions than it answers! Ha-HAAA! -high-fives own face-

 

 

You heard the tolling of the bells only moments after Sans left.

**That was…not unpleasant.**

You absently licked at the bits of drying blood around your mouth. You smiled to yourself at your friend’s casual tone, your eyes still on the open window. You knew they had been just as affected by your meal as you had, if not more so.

**No need to be so smug.**

You weren’t _trying_ to be smug. It just so happened that you were right, was all.

**You are definitely feeling better now.**

So was your friend, if the strength of their voice was any indication.

**I…may have perked up a bit.**

You laughed breathily, air hissing softly through your toothy smile. You knew that was the best you would be getting out of your friend. They would never openly admit they owed their renewed vigour to someone who wasn’t you. Especially considering their concern about Sans and Papyrus’s apparent master.

**Since you’re so jolly, perhaps I should release you now. Are you going to be okay if I do?**

You thought it over. You didn’t know why you wouldn’t be. 

**I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.**

You kept your body loose and relaxed as your friend slipped themselves carefully back, back, back from your limbs, one at a time. It was nothing like it had been the previous two times. You felt none of the seam-tearing horror from your human body, none of the mind-rending pain from your panic. Both of you were calm and slow, and whenever you felt a spasm begin, your friend simply stopped, allowing it to pass. Finally, with a long sigh—and after only three spasms threatened by your body—your friend had fully retracted their control. You could wiggle every toe, every finger, your legs and hips, without that familiar heaviness there.  

Still, though, they held a hand clamped around your soul.

You briefly wondered why they were hesitating, but then, like sand slipping through parted fingers, you began to feel a trickle of the emotions they had kept locked away.

Oh…oh, _that_ was why they had hesitated.

The pain, the fear, the arousal, the _bloodlust—oh_ , God—oh dear Lord in Heaven, what—what had you _done_?

Had you truly _devoured flesh_ with that monster? Had you held your mewling lips open for him to feed you like a needy pup? Had you accepted the blood not only without hesitation, but with true, lustful, burning _need_?

You groaned low in your throat, gritting your teeth together with shame. How could you do that? How could you reveal such weakness to the two creatures who had already so much power over you?

**Because we needed to.**

You turned your head away, scowling at the sighing, slightly frustrated turn to your friend’s voice. That wasn’t true at all. Your friend could have waited until you had been unchained. You would have been able to hunt for them yourself. You wouldn’t have had to reduce yourself to such a sight.

To think!

You shuddered at the memory of your actions. You had _begged_ for that meal. Pleaded with those demons like a harlot—a whore for their devil’s fare! What if they thought you were theirs now—that they could do what they wanted with you because you accepted their ‘gift’?

**Oh, come now.**

You paused amidst your increasingly alarming thoughts when your friend spoke in that slightly amused way.

**There’s no need for such a grand pity party.**

You huffed with surprise and something to akin to outrage.

**No, no chatting back right now. Now you listen.**

You puffed out another ball of air, frowning as you made to listen.

**Good. Now, most importantly, you have no one to blame but yourself for what happened tonight.**

You felt a wave of indignation at that, but you were cut off with more thoughts.

**You allowed yourself to fall prey to your own fear to the point that I had to expend a ludicrous amount of power to restrain you. If you had listened to me in the first place, and _not_ behaved like a wild animal, we would not have needed that meal. We _could_ have made do until we were free to hunt for ourselves. But you did. So we did.**

You gnawed at your lip, feeling properly chastised. They were right—you _had_ behaved rather beastly because of your fear. You shouldn’t have allowed your most base human instinct to rule you in such a way. You were civilised; you were in control of yourself. You had brought the whole shameful situation on yourself. 

You couldn’t even blame Papyrus for tempting you. It was clear he had only wanted to appease you for his mistreatment of you. It was difficult for to grasp the concept that he _hadn’t_ been trying to hurt you. You still didn’t know—now that you had faculty of your own emotions—if you had completely forgiven him for his carelessness. And you didn’t want your friend to pressure you into forgiving him, even though they wanted you to keep tabs on him and Sans. You were _allowed_ to be upset at him for hurting you, whether or not he had intended to. Forgiveness wasn’t part of your duty.

**I don’t particularly care if you forgive him. The important thing is whether or not you can continue with seeing them.**

You hesitated at the thought.

**Because this is more important than human insecurity. This is…big.**

You sighed, the air trickling from your lips.

**Besides, how hard could it be to make friends with someone who brings you presents?**

You snorted at that. So typical of your friend.

**That’s why _we_ get along so well, after all.**

You smiled slowly. That was true enough.

**So why don’t you try thinking of that meal less as an abomination, and more like…someone picking up a present for you to give to your friend?**

You laughed aloud at that.

“I assume there’s a reason you’re cackling like a madwoman?”

Your head whipped around to face the doorway to your room, your eyes wide. Oh, _bollocks_. You’d forgotten about the matron.

**And us with naught but our night dress to wear for the occasion.**

You bit your lip to keep from laughing again as the matron strode through into your room. Grabbing the back of the hard wooden chair next to the door and scraping it over next to your bed, the matron swept aside her long skirts to sit. The already prominent wrinkles of her face were harsher this morning than usual, especially around her eyes. You wondered if she hadn’t slept well. Her long silvery-white hair was pulled into a severe bun as usual, but there was a single strand falling from it, down across her high-necked collar. 

That was not usual.

She folded her small hands in her lap as she sat primly, her sea green eyes scanning your face with mild disgust. You wanted to look away, but your friend’s words about not being ashamed of yourself echoed in your mind. You faced her down with a direct stare of your own, instead.

She sighed softly at your look of rebellion, reaching for the bowl and jug of water on the bedside table. She poured a bit of water into the bowl and wet her handkerchief, leaning in and dabbing at the stains around your lips. Your eyes went wide. She wasn’t going to ask how the blood had gotten there in the first place? You squirmed slightly as she continued without a single word.

“I, ah…I bit my tongue. I was having a f—”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, interrupting you with, “Keep still, child. I cannot clean you if you insist on squirming like that.”

Your mouth shut audibly, and you heard your friend giggling at you. You looked away, unsure of what to do with yourself while you were being prodded at like a little girl with cake on her mouth.

When the last of the dried blood had been wiped clean, the matron sat back, folding the handkerchief neatly as she spoke softly, “There. That’s better. Now. Are you going to tell me why you’ve chosen to be so reckless, or shall I just assume it’s because you’re an empty-headed fool?”

Your mouth fell open with surprise.

“Don’t gawp at me, girl. You may dress like a man for your position, but you are still a lady. Act like one.”

You felt hot shame wash over your face. Her eyes were sharp but not unkind, though you could tell she was incensed about something.

“Sorry, Matron,” you mumbled your apology.

She nodded curtly. “Only right that you are, getting involved with hooligans like those two.”

You heard your friend laughing again, louder.

**Hooligans?**

“What—two?” you stuttered over your words, your throat going dry. Did she somehow know about Sans and Papyrus? How could she possibly know? You hadn’t told her any specifics of how you’d gotten hurt. You were sure your friend hadn’t said anything either, while bringing you home. They were more devious than you.

The matron gave you a flat look, her thin eyebrows raising the barest amount.

Your palms began to sweat.

“I know you aren’t simple enough to think me a fool. Please, child, if you work with me, I can help you.” She paused for a moment, giving weight to her words. “And that friend of yours.”

You stared with sudden wary eyes. The matron never spoke of your friend, unless it was absolutely necessary. She obviously preferred to put it out of her mind as much as possible.

**Hm.**

You wondered if it was a good idea to tell her all about the two monsters. You didn’t want her going into a panic and dragging the Home into chaos with her. The wards and sisters needed stability.

**Somehow I doubt it will surprise her.**

You gave a little mental shrug and said, “I didn’t mean to get involved. I was watching them from afar. They were the ones who involved me.”

The matron seemed to ruminate on that, her lips thinning for a long while. Then she smiled, bitter and somewhat regretful. You’d never seen her look like that before. “It’s usually the way of it, unfortunately. I know more than most the… _allure_ …they exhibit.”

You blinked once, fast and surprised. You could feel your friend’s attention grow closer as well. Did the matron mean to say _she_ had known monsters, as well? When? How? You opened your mouth, eager to ask all your sudden questions, but she held up a hand palm-out. She shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter. That tale is for another time. Right now, what’s important is making sure your story does not end prematurely.”

You flinched. “I know I shouldn’t have accepted the meal from them, but I— _we_ —were hungry. _Starving_.” You nervously poked at your chewed lip with the tip of your tongue. “Have I damned myself, Mother?”

“We’re all damned here, child.”

You closed your eyes, breath slipping from between your lips.

**Why are you so bothered by this? You never believed, before. Why the sudden change of faith?**

It _was_ faith-shaking, coming face-to-face with nightmares. Even if you didn’t have faith before, it had brought out your latent spirituality. No one wanted to deny Heaven while facing down Death.

**Hm. An interesting thought.**

“I wouldn’t dwell on it,” the matron said softly, but dismissively. You peeked out from beneath your barely-open eyelids. She had a focused look in her eyes as she studied you. “There are other, more pressing matters at hand than whether your attraction to those two has shaken your belief.”

You felt yourself flush at hearing your secret spoken aloud by your caretaker. You couldn’t form words for a response, but she was already speaking again anyway, so you were spared more embarrassment.

“Namely, the fact that my wards are now feeling the Call.”

With those simple words, the matron had both you and your friend’s direct, unwavering attention.

**Give me your voice, please.**

You instantly consented to your friend’s control, and you felt the warm trickle of power take hold of your throat and mouth.

“ **What do you know?** ”

The matron’s lips tugged into a small, slightly pleased smile as your voice rang out, clipped and forceful. “Good afternoon to you, too.”

“ **Tell me what you know, old woman.** ”

A light laugh burst from the matron. “That’s a hoot, coming from you, my dear.” Her long fingers dipped into her habit pocket and pulled out a metal case of cigarillos. She lit one with care, her eyes cast to the side. “I’m afraid if we’re going to start counting years, I’ll be a mere sapling and you…well.”

The grin she turned on you then gave you pause. You had never heard her speak to your friend like this before. You wondered just how serious the situation was, if she was being so informal.

Your laugh burst out, hard and unamused. “ **What do you want?** ”

“That depends on you.” She took a drag from her cigarillo out of the corner of her mouth. “You seem uncharacteristically interested in my wards.” The matron leaned forward in her chair, resting a hand on her knee. “Could it be that your vessel is feeling the Call as well?” She breathed out a trail of smoke towards you, still smiling toothily. “Or perhaps it’s _you_?”

Your friend growled softly under your breath, and you could feel their frustration mounting before they suddenly released it in a long sigh. You felt yourself smile back at the matron. “ **You don’t waste time, do you?** ”

“Please,” the matron retorted, leaning back once again. “We’ve known each other long enough to be past the need for small talk.”

“ **I suppose so,** ” you said with a brief laugh. “ **So tell me.** ” You felt your friend’s warmth spread down across your chest, and your body rose against the restraints. Your eyes went wide. “ ** _What do you want_?** ”

The matron paused long enough to take another drag. “Cooperation,” she said finally, smoke drifting away from her towards the window.

“ **You already have that.** ”

“No, my dear. Cooperation from _you_.”

You felt yourself flinch back.

Your friend thought on the matron’s words.

After a long silence, your voice said, “ **To what end?** ”

“I feel an accord could be mutually beneficial.”

“ **Do you really think you could afford an accord with me?** _”_

 _“_ How would I know the cost, if I don’t know who you _are_?”

“ **…hah…you’re more cunning than I had you pinned for, _Mother_.** ”

“You don’t live as long as I have without having some tricks.”

“ **Unfortunately for your side of the bargain, I have more tricks than you know.** ”

“Who’s to say _I_ don’t, as well?”

Your head fell back against the bed, your eyes on the ceiling. Your smile stretched wide, and you laughed loudly. You looked back to the matron. “ **You deserve at least a chance at an accord, for your audacity alone.** ” Your grin twisted slightly. “ **I don’t remember you being so direct, before.** ”

“Needs must, my dear.” The matron stubbed out her cigarillo in the ash tray on your bedside table. She steepled her fingers and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “So now that we’re reading from the same page—what shall I call you?”

Your friend giggled, high and amused. “ **Oh, Mother, I’ve gone by so many names.** ”

“The Man in Shadow…The Red Lady…The Fair Child…”

“ **Ah, yes, those do ring a bell. Take your pick—I’m not fussed.** ” You laughed again. “ **Although I’ve always found The Fair Child to be quite apt.** ”

“If that’s the best I’m going to get out of you…?”

Your shoulders gave as much of a shrug as you could in the manacles. “ **Afraid so.** ”

“Fairchild it is.” The matron stood, tucking her hands into her habit and walking to the window, facing out toward the mountain, her eyes searching. “You’ll have to forgive the truncation; I wouldn’t want the sisters believing me fully mad.” She paused, a wry smile coming to her lips. “More than usual, I should say.” She sent a sidelong glance at you, the faintest smirk accompanying it. “Pleasure doing business with you, Fairchild. May I speak to the lady of the manor again?”

Your friend snorted with laughter. “ **Oh, but we were having such fun. If you must, though…I’m sure she has some questions of her own.** ”

With a whispered request that was quickly granted, your friend relinquished your body to you once more. After only a few moments, their warmth had fully retreated. You tested your throat and mouth before turning on the matron with, “What the bloody hell was _that_?”

“Language, child.”

You stared at the matron’s profile with wide eyes and lowered brows. “You must be joking.”

“I never joke in times of war.” You heard your friend giggling madly as the matron continued with, “And it _is_ a time of war. Not only on the continent, but here as well. There is something threatening the Home, and I need you to take up arms.”

“Do you mean to say—” You stopped yourself from using Sans and Papyrus’s names. “—those two…are dangerous for everyone?”

The matron turned her eyes away from the window to face you. “Perhaps they _could_ damage the girls, if they wished. I wouldn’t worry about them, however. I’ve never known them to prey on women directly.”

You gnawed the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. You wanted desperately to ask _how_ she knew that, but you had the feeling she wouldn’t answer, anyway. You set aside the question for later. “What do you need me to do?”

“I’ve a terrible feeling I won’t be able to restrain the girls much longer, by myself.” She lifted her hands in a gesture of candour. “I’ve never seen them so restless. They act as though it is agony for them to be kept still.”

“I know the feeling.”

The matron smiled gently, sadly. “I know you do, child. Which is why I need you to watch for them, when I can no longer hold them here. For they _will_ escape. There is no question in my mind.”

You felt shivers of dread down your spine. “What is it, Matron? What is calling them?” You hesitated. “What is calling me?”

“It has no name that I know. I have dedicated my life to keeping its natural prey safe from its infernal grasp, however.” She made the sign of the cross over her heart. “I’ve regretted never being able to stop it from making victims out of the men in the region. But I’ll be damned if it takes my girls after all this time.”

You gritted your teeth at the thought of your wards being drawn to the mountain. You had been as much their protector as one of them in the years since you’d come to the Home. You were sick at the thought of them tumbling into that hole, into the arms of whatever beasts were down there with Sans and Papyrus.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

“I’ll be there.”

“There’s a good lass. Now get some rest. Your friends will be keeping you busy later.” With a sly twitch of her eyebrow, she turned and left you alone in the room once more.

You sat in silence for a moment, before your friend’s vicious curse rang through your head.

**Shit! I didn’t get _her_ name! I didn’t get _anything_!**

As your friend growled and cursed in frustration, you laughed and laughed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Matron, you crafty devil <3
> 
> Next up: Sans has some questions of his own.
> 
> A tumblr-weed rolls past the screen...its fibres spell out the words: tellcosy.tumblr.com.


	13. Buds in Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A civilised conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOOOOOY this is a bit of a biggin' comparatively. And weirdly fluffy? I don't know! It didn't start that way. -cough-
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

You half-sat on the edge of your windowsill, one of your legs crooked against the side as you watched the moonrise. A sister had come by at the matron’s behest and released you from your restraints, and you had taken the bit of unexpected freedom to wash and get dressed. You were feeling much better, though you had mounting apprehension about seeing the two monsters again.

That is, if they decided to risk coming again. 

Part of you was hoping they didn’t.

A much larger part of you was hoping they did.

You had pondered over everything that had happened as you’d cleaned up, and by the time you’d finished, you thought you’d come to some conclusions about yourself.

First and foremost was: you were still quite scared of Papyrus and Sans.

You couldn’t help yourself. You were human, after all, and they were the stuff nightmares were made of. 

But that didn’t mean you would allow yourself to fall into a blind panic again. You didn’t want your friend to have to come to your rescue every time you came face-to-face with the monsters. And considering you’d not only agreed to help the matron by looking after the wayward girls who would eventually escape to the mountain, but also been slightly bullied by your friend into agreeing to see the monsters again, you thought it was best to work through those feelings now. So you tried to pinpoint what exactly it was that scared you so badly, and isolate it.

Of course it wasn’t as easy as all that. Fear was a nebulous, complicated thing. Especially human fear, which was tied into subconscious thought and instinctive reactions. But as you pictured Papyrus creeping through your window—through the trees above you—skittering angrily away in the forest when denied your friendship…you had a good idea of what scared you about him. He was large, true, and everything about his body shape was sharp and deadly. But it was more that he was fast and manic and obsessive, like a human-sized spider with a particular taste for _you_.

You had never particularly liked spiders, though you had learned to live with them. You thought you could learn to live with Papyrus, too, if it was necessary to learn more about his and Sans’s master. Though he had demonstrated his ability to literally crush you even unintentionally, there was still something comforting about his desire to make reparations for it. Something civilised, there. You could push aside your innate fear of his appearance to do your duty. If you must.

Sans, though…

Sans was a different matter.

A shiver rolled across your neck and down your arms. The red moon pulsed in your eyes, then, your heartbeat twisting your vision to make it dance with something like laughter.

Sans _terrified_ you. 

And it had _nothing_ to do with his appearance.

He was ostensibly shaped like a human man. You had even mistaken him for one, despite the clues pointing to his otherworldliness. His stiff gait, his large, grimacing teeth, the way his clothes hung from his body in a slightly odd way. Not to mention his demonic canine companion you had seen, or the fact that he had emerged from the same hole that had produced the other hellish creatures.

All that had been easy to ignore when you’d wanted to believe otherwise.

But you couldn’t hear his voice and look in his eyes and think he was anything other than a monster. He was cunning and calculated, with an eerie presence that set you on edge no matter how logical you might try to be about his intentions.

And then there were the visions. They had only come upon you when you’d been near to Sans. You wondered if your lack of a vision the night before meant that you had simply been too far away to receive one, or if it was something else that triggered them.

**I’m wondering what they are, as well. I’ve never known you to be prone to visions. Not even when I first introduced myself.**

That was true. You were unremarkable when it came to psychic tendencies, despite your friend’s influence. The closest you had ever gotten to real visions before then was during your fits, when the space between you and your friend was broken down and you blurred together. And even then, those couldn’t exactly be classified as _visions_ , really. They were more like…

**Ramblings?**

That was close enough, though the word signified madness being the driving force behind them.

**Madness, influence, whatever. It’s all the same, coming from me.**

So for you to be experiencing what appeared to be real, _actual_ visions was somewhat exhilarating for you. But also scary. Because you had no idea why they were happening, or what they meant.

You didn’t know if you could get… _close_ …to Sans, if it meant you would be seeing more visions. Coupling them with Sans’s already intensely hostile aura that seemed just as direct as Papyrus’s obsession for you, it was overwhelming to think about being friendly with the monster.

**You’ve faced worse than him.**

You supposed so.

You would have to just take it one step at a time, you knew. You wouldn’t shirk your responsibility—either of them—so that meant you were just going to have to buck up and learn to live with your fear.

The moon laughed again, and you sighed.

It was not long after that that two figures emerged from the forest at the base of the mountain, their inhumanly tall forms casting long shadows on the ground.

There was no mistaking them.

You waited for them in your window, just watching for another few moments, until it became clear that Papyrus had spotted you. He dropped into his four-legged sprint you had seen him use before, now covering the ground between you at an alarming pace. You swung your legs over the edge of the sill, pushing yourself off with a little hop. You shoved your hands deep into your pockets as you jogged lightly towards the monsters, putting some distance between the two and the Home.

“Hhhuman!” Papyrus cried, breathless with delight as you caught up to his position. He stood and grabbed you in one motion, and you squeaked as you were lifted high in the air, crushed to his skeletal chest. You gripped his collarbone with the hand that wasn’t trapped, your legs swinging as he spun. Your head spun even after he stopped.

“Guess they let you out to play, then?”

You looked over at Sans, your vision swimming slightly before your eyes locked with his. Papyrus still hadn’t put you back down.

“If you want to call it that,” you said, wheezing slightly. Papyrus’s ribs were digging into your stomach and making it a bit tough to breathe. He didn’t seem too interested in letting you down anytime soon. He had his head resting on the top of yours, now, and was nuzzling your hair.

“You get out on good behaviour?” Sans asked, his sharp teeth pulling up in a grin. Your gaze flicked down to his mouth before returning to his eyes. How did they _speak_ without moving their mouths?

“More like necessity,” you murmured. You squirmed slightly, getting more than a little uncomfortable with being held in such a way. “Papyrus, may I please be put down?” you asked in your most polite tone, still breathless.

At your words, Papyrus’s head snapped up and he looked down at you with wide, almost hurt eyes. “O-oh…do you…not _like_ this?” Without waiting for a response from you, he gently set you back to the ground, though he kept a hand at your waist. You looked up at him with a smile, surprising yourself with its genuineness. “I-I’m _sorry_ if I was hurting you…I just get…so ex _cited_ to see you…”

“It’s okay,” you said, and you actually meant it. You decided to add some sweetness, though. You figured it couldn’t hurt. “I’m pretty happy to see you, too.” He seemed to light up at that, and you couldn’t help the small clench of your heart. Was he really so enamoured of the idea of being your friend that simple words could bring him such joy?

**Not long ago, you were much the same.**

The reminder hit you hard, and you nearly flinched at the force of it. It was completely true, though. Just a short few years ago, you had been desperate for attention. You had settled for disapproval for such a long time. But when your friend came along, and you found they were quick with praise if you earned it, you had practically fallen at their feet.

Ah, God, it hurt to think about that.

“Shall we go out for a meal, human?” Papyrus asked, smiling wide down at you, his eyes full of expectation. “You seemed very hungry last night!”

You huffed out a slightly embarrassed laugh, stepping back just enough so that Papyrus was no longer touching you. He didn’t seem to mind at all, thankfully—just dropping his hand back to his side without comment. “No, thank you, Papyrus. I actually have a job to get to.” You gestured lightly, trying for casual even though your heart was hammering at his and Sans’s proximity. You were desperately ignoring the panicky whining you could feel from your instincts. You didn’t want to ask for help from your friend, though. You wanted to do this _yourself_. “If you—if you like, though, you can come with me.”

Just as Papyrus responded with, “Of course, human!” Sans piped up with, “No, that’s okay.”

You glanced between the two monsters as Papyrus threw a frustrated look at Sans. Sans himself was looking at you, the ridges above his eyes lowered in an unfriendly, disapproving glare. You weren’t sure what you’d said to deserve that look, but you weren’t at all comfortable with it. You were struggling to hide the quivering in your hands, so you shoved them back into your trouser pockets.

**He doesn’t trust humans.**

You had guessed that much, yourself.

**Alright, then, Cheeky. Why don’t you just offer up your name to him as an olive branch instead of back-talking me?**

You mulled that over quickly. That made a lot of sense. It was possible that Sans was feeling slightly vulnerable himself, considering you knew his and Papyrus’s name, while they knew next to nothing about you. Names were powerful objects in the wrong hands. Even for humans.

Perhaps it was time to let him know you weren’t going to be taking advantage of that knowledge.

“Well,” you began, rocking forward slightly with an air of mediation while secretly feeling quite sneaky. “Would you like to come with me alone, then, Papyrus?” You spoke directly to him, but threw a knowing glance at Sans, holding his gaze for the briefest of moments. He didn’t look pleased.

“Yes, of course I will, human!” Papyrus exclaimed, his hands twitching toward you as though he’d like to snatch you up in a hug once more. He didn’t. You were glad that he seemed to be slowly showing signs of self-restraint. You didn’t know if you were quite ready for his particular sort of friendly hugs.

You gave Papyrus a slightly strained smile. “You can call me by my name, you know.” You hesitated for a second before gathering your courage and squaring your shoulders. “It’s Frisk.”

You were looking straight at Sans as you spoke, your eyes caught in his. His glare had fallen as soon as you’d spoken your name, replaced with a neutral expression that might as well be a mask.

“O-okay, then—Frisk it is!” Papyrus responded after an awkward silence. You broke gazes with Sans and turned back to Papyrus, who was looking over at Sans nervously. “I’d love to come help you.”

You dipped your head in a mock-curtsey and offered your hand, which Papyrus took after a second in which it was obvious he was trying to figure out what he should be doing with it. “Lovely.” You glanced at Sans dismissively, using a tone of voice to match. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, Mister Sans. I hope to see you again soon.”

Without waiting for a response, as would be polite, you simply turned on your heel and set off towards the foot of the mountain, Papyrus keeping up with you easily. You couldn’t help the small, self-satisfied smile that lifted the corners of your mouth. You knew it wouldn’t be long before you would be hearing the stomp of boots catching up to you both. 

What you didn’t expect was Papyrus leaning close to your ear as you walked and whispering conspiratorially, “I’m not sure how you knew the best way to get under my brother’s skin, Frisk, but I have to admit I’m impressed.” He gave a soft, delighted giggle as your lips parted with surprise.

**Oh… _brothers_.**

You ignored your friend’s hum of interest as you shook your head once. “I’m not sure what you mean, Papyrus,” you said, smiling with only a hint of slyness.

“Thought I told you not to be cute, human,” Sans’s deep voice came from beside you, and you froze for a second before forcing yourself to relax again. You had no idea how he had caught up so silently, but it wasn’t important. What _was_ important was that you had successfully won over Sans in this small dispute despite his reluctance.

Small victories.

**One step at a time. I’m proud of you.**

You grinned to yourself before giving Sans a small nod. “I see you changed your mind, Sans. It will be good to have you for company tonight.”

“You aren’t as clever as you think you are, you know.”

“Sans!” Papyrus scolded instantly. 

“What? She’s trying to _manipulate_ us, ‘Pyrus!”

Your ears perked up at the nickname. You hadn’t heard him refer to Papyrus as anything but so far. It was curious to hear the shortened version. It was…

**Kind of sweet?**

You wouldn’t go that far, but…comforting, at least. Sans suddenly didn’t seem so monstrous. Especially when you didn’t make the mistake of looking over at him as he spoke. You were a couple feet shorter than both of the brothers, even when you stood ramrod-straight. Not to mention Sans’s stout frame. Walking between them was enough to set you on edge even without the knowledge of what they were capable of.

**We’re all capable of horrors, here.**

You thought there was a slight difference between what you were capable of and what _they_ could manage, though.

**No question. But that doesn’t mean you should let yourself be intimidated.**

You were unsure about that, but you figured you would at least have to pretend that was the truth for now. You fingered the pocket watch in your trousers, keeping your head lowered but your gaze facing forward as you just let the brothers hash over their problems without your input.

“Sans, that’s a _horrible_ thing to suggest about our friend! You should apologise immediately!”

“She’s not _my_ friend.”

“That doesn’t preclude bad manners. You don’t have any friends in the first place, though, so how could you know that?”

“Well, _you_ ’d know about not having friends, wouldn’t you, Papyrus?”

At Papyrus’s gasp of indignation and quick, biting response about how at least he wasn’t a glorified lapdog, you began to tune out their words. You were becoming incredibly anxious as their voices grew steadily louder and more aggressive as they bickered back and forth over your head. The air was getting close and hot, for some reason, and it reminded you of how the clearing around the hole had felt a couple days ago. It even smelled of flowers.

**Bloody hell, they’re arguing like children. Don’t believe that I was ever afraid of them.**

You were feeling much less cavalier about the situation than your friend was, that much was obvious. You were still on the lookout for any possible escapees from the Home, but you were now very nervous and distracted by the wild gestures Papyrus was throwing around. His sharp hands were coming awfully close to your face as he got angrier with his brother. 

When his hand cut in front of your direct line of sight, you drew up with wide eyes, stopping dead. You looked up to see Papyrus standing at his full height, his eyes narrowed dangerously at Sans. Your heart started to hammer in fear properly, a cold shiver running down your spine and setting goosebumps into your skin. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at Sans, hearing a low, deep, _deep_ growl coming from him on your other side.

“You’re always trying to ruin my happiness, Sans. Why is that?”

“Just because I use my _head_ to think instead of _other parts_ —”

“Now what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well what I’m saying, Papyrus.”

“You know what? I really _don’t_. Why don’t you spell it out for me, Sans? Hm? If you’re the smart one here, why don’t you just explain to me exactly what you’re trying to say—”

“You sure you want that, Papyrus? ‘Cause I’ll say it, right here, right now. You sure you want the human to know how much you want to—”

You were done listening. You had been slowly cowering beneath the weight of your fear, wedged between the two brothers’ fight. But you were not about to sit here and listen to them argue about you directly. No matter _how_ scared you were.

**Leave them here. Just forget them. You have work to do.**

You agreed. Ducking under Papyrus’s arm, you continued on the beaten trail, trembling slightly with emotion. You were scared, yes, but you found that most of all you were angry. It was stupidly childish of them to get into a shouting match about nothing when there was such important work for you to be doing. If you’d known they were going to be argumentative and unhelpful, you would have just avoided them by leaving early. You didn’t need that distraction.

**If this is how they’re always going to be, we’ll have to think about who else we can use for information.**

You took out your pocket watch to check the time. It wasn’t very late at all. You didn’t know when the girls had been feeling the height of their wanderlust, but if your own anxious feet were any indication, you knew it was probably getting fairly uncomfortable for them. The moon peeked through the canopy of leaves, keeping an ever-watchful eye on you. You wondered if it was laughing at you now, or if understood your frustration.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, the heat of anger draining from you. You couldn’t hear Sans and Papyrus arguing anymore—whether that was because they’d worked out their differences or killed each other, you didn’t know or care. You stopped just outside the edge of the forest proper, your face turned to the Home. It was far enough in the distance that you could see one entire half of the dormitories. There were a few lamps burning in the windows, and you could see the familiar silhouette of a sister’s habit in one of them. Your gaze didn’t linger on that window: whoever was in that room would be protected.

There was another that had caught your eye.

A girl, slim and tall, her long, pale hair drifting in the slight breeze, stood in the window of her room, staring out. You couldn’t make out her face from so far away, but you recognised the slackness in her stance. Her shoulders were drawn back and here arms were at her side as her body swayed toward the open window, her face turned up to the moon.

She was feeling the Call.

**That can’t be good.**

You were inclined to agree.

**I didn’t think the pull could be so strong for others.**

You hadn’t, either. You had assumed you were feeling your wanderlust so strongly because of your friend.

**…I assumed that was why _I_ was feeling something.**

That couldn’t be good.

**I am…inclined to agree. As soon as we can speak to the matron again, we need her to tell us what she knows about this. We can’t do our job without all the information.**

You pulled in a deep lungful of breath, holding it as you watched the girl sway heavily. She was on the second storey; if she wasn’t careful, she would soon plummet to the ground. You wondered if you should start running now, just in case she was too far gone to realise.

**Might be a good idea.**

You strode forward with long steps, your eyes on the girl in the window, ready to drop into a sprint if she seemed like she was losing control. Before you got very far, though, a hand fell on the girl’s shoulders and turned her back to the room, guiding her away from the window. The sister who had come to the girl’s room  glanced out, giving the barest nod when she spotted you. You nodded back, and she shut the window and curtains behind her as she turned to the room.

You released the breath you’d been holding.

“Human—ah, I mean, Frisk? A-are you okay?” Papyrus said behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him creeping up hesitantly. You turned back to the Home to see if anyone was looking out in your direction. Thank God, there wasn’t, at least not that you could see. “I-I’m sorry if we f-frightened you.”

You sighed. “You don’t have to keep apologising,  Papyrus.” You turned around and walked over to where he was waiting, looking nervous and apologetic, his gloved hands wringing together. “Come on, let’s get back in the trees. It’s risky for us to be out in the open.”

You spotted Sans waiting behind the border of the trees, his face like a thunderhead. “Not risky for _you_ ,” you heard him grumble. Papyrus made a low, eerie growling sound behind you in response.

**Something is going through that teddy bear’s head that does not agree with him.**

You shook your head, mentally sighing again. You were already tired of Sans’s poor attitude towards you. You decided to approach him with candour, just to clear the air before things became too heated and you ended up having a full panic again. You couldn’t afford another fit while the girls needed you.

“Sans,” you began, your voice soft but direct as you stopped just in front of him. You thought you saw Sans lean away slightly. “I thought I made it clear that if you aren’t enjoying my company, you aren’t at all obliged to suffer through any more of it.”

Sans’s deep red pupils looked down and away, as though chastised. “‘M not leaving Papyrus alone here with you.”

You stared at him with wide, confused eyes, a hint of amusement pulling at the corners. “What could _I_ possibly do to someone like Papyrus?” You glanced over at Papyrus with a conspiratorial look, expecting one in return, but he looked nervous still. Your brows twitched together. What were they so worried about?

“It’s not his physical wellbeing that I’m concerned about,” Sans said, his eyes meeting yours again.

You opened your mouth to ask him how else you could possibly hurt Papyrus, but then you realised. He was worried about you _breaking_ Papyrus’s _heart_. You had to close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose for a moment to collect your thoughts. When you looked up again, both Sans and Papyrus were obviously uncomfortable, though Sans at least still had his eyes on you. Papyrus wouldn’t even look at you.

“I assure you, your brother will not come to harm by my hands.”

You and Sans locked eyes for an uncomfortably long time. You could hardly breathe, with the tension building between you. Finally he spoke, though you could barely hear his words over your heartbeat, which resembled the pounding of a pack of wolves chasing down their prey.

“I believe you. Though if it’s all the same, I’d like to come with you, anyway.”

You were already nodding curtly, unsurprised, as Papyrus spoke, his voice high and expectant. “Don’t you have something _else_ to say to her, Sans?”

Sans made a face that was easily recognisable as a grimace. “No, not that I can think of.”

Papyrus made that same growling, high-pitched whine he had before, though it was more forceful now. It sent a chill through you.

Sans grunted. “Fine—I’m _sorry_ if I scared you. Even though we were just _talking_ , so it was pretty stupid for you to run off like that—”

As you stared with surprise at the reluctant and petulant look on Sans’s face, Papyrus made a sound like he was clearing his throat, effectively cutting Sans off.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, tension draining from you as you exhaled. You had been worried about confronting Sans. You knew that Papyrus wanted to be your friend, but you had no real idea of Sans’s motivations. You couldn’t read him without knowing at least some of what made him tick. With the revelation that he was concerned for his brother’s wellbeing, it made it much easier again for you to understand him.

Without thinking, you reached out, offering your hand for him to shake as you said, “I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, Sans. I’d like to try again, if you would.”

Sans looked warily down at your hand just long enough to make you begin to sweat. Then he reached out his own massive, skeletal hand, grasping your forearm as his eyes bore into yours. Your breath hitched softly when your hand unconsciously gripped onto the bones of his forearm. They were large and strong, both of them about as large around as your wrist. They were smooth and cool, though not as cold as you would have imagined him to be. By no means did he feel as cold as a dead body, and it was slightly eerie. You wondered where the heat came from.

**Oh, my.**

Papyrus made a happy, high whining under his breath and gave his gasping laugh. You tore your eyes away from Sans as he said, “Now, see, isn’t it much nicer when we’re all friends?”

You realised you were still gripping Sans’s bones, and you released him, taking a step back with a lopsided smile. “It isn’t horrible.”

You were strangely pleased when Sans returned your smile with one of his own, barely noticeable as it might be. “Well, isn’t that just the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me?”

You laughed once, high and amused. It felt nice, if not a bit odd. You hadn’t really laughed at anyone who wasn’t your friend in a very long time. You gave a bow of your head to acknowledge his comment before you gestured, saying, “Well, shall we?”

Papyrus sprang forward happily, walking beside you in his looming way once more as you continued your patrol. You weren’t quite as focused as you’d been before, as you had seen that the sisters were looking over the girls. You still kept your eyes sharp on the tree line and on the forest floor, looking to see if there were any unexpected footprints. Sans was on your other side as the three of you walked in relatively comfortable silence.

“So, uh…” Sans began after a few minutes, his voice carefully casual. You glanced over at him to let him know you were paying attention. “I don’t really have a lot of experience being friends with…someone like you.”

“Don’t you mean _anyone_ , Sans?” Papyrus chirped, and you tensed slightly, waiting for Sans to get angry again. He just tossed a flat look to Papyrus, though.

“I…might have guessed,” you said simply, not looking to see what Sans’s reaction might be.

“I just, uh…I didn’t know if I should go get you something, too. Just to make our, uh, friendship _official_.” Your eyes snapped over to him, narrowed slightly, but he didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. What was he talking about? You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. 

“Like Papyrus gave you.”

You snapped back, your spine straightening as though someone had strapped you in a corset. What was Sans trying to do? Why was he bringing that up now?

“No, I’m quite alright.” You couldn’t help the suspicion creeping into your voice.

“Are you sure? Because I’m sure I could find something in the forest that’s to your taste.”

**Oh. He’s trying to be _clever_.**

“No,” you said with finality. You followed it up immediately with, “I have some food of my own, if you’re hungry, though. Either of you.”

Papyrus bounded in front of you, his eyes wide with anticipation. “Rrreally? I-I’ve never had _human food_.”

You pulled out a sandwich wrapped in brown paper from your pocket. The sisters had been practically forcing food into you since you’d come back hurt. When they’d heard you would be patrolling again so soon after, they had pressed the sandwich on you, saying it was the least you could take. You looked up to see Sans giving you an amused look, the ridges over his eye sockets raised. You shrugged by way of explanation and tore the sandwich into thirds, tucking your section into your mouth as you offered the other bits to Sans and Papyrus.

Papyrus leapt forward eagerly, and you flinched slightly, but when he reached for his piece, he was surprisingly ginger. He plucked it from you with his fingertips, holding it up to his eyes as though it was a mystery. Sans did the same, though he wasn’t quite as gentle as Papyrus with his piece. You took yours and chewed the mouthful you had bitten off, watching with a small smile as the two monsters tried to figure out the sandwich.

“How, uh, are we supposed to eat this, do you think?” Sans asked Papyrus, peering up at him over his sandwich.

Papyrus shrugged lightly, giving Sans a similar look. “I suppose we just…do what we usually do?”

Sans had a suspicious look, but he nodded and he and Papyrus both took a tiny bite out of their pieces, their eyes pulsing very faintly. You snorted quietly into your sandwich at the look of surprise on their faces. Your eyes caught the faint red glow at both of their throats, and the fact that the sandwich pieces didn’t fall through to the ground.

“It’s, uh…not without its charm,” Sans said after a brief rumination. His face revealed none of his actual thoughts on the food, unlike Papyrus, who was staring at his sandwich with puzzlement.

“Well, I think it’s lovely,” he managed, and you hid a smile at his obvious white lie. 

You swallowed your bite and stood tall, folding your arms loosely under your breasts. It was time for another bit of candour, you thought. “If you want to know anything about me, you know, it’s easier to just ask, instead of trying to trick me into telling you.”

Both Sans and Papyrus’s eyes snapped to you as they were mid-bite. Both of them had the grace to look slightly ashamed, at least. “But you’ll have to answer some questions, as well. You don’t get information for free.”

Sans’s eyes pulsed again, brighter this time, but Papyrus was the one to answer with, “Of course! Ask away!”

“ _Papyrus_.” Sans turned to his brother with a look of disbelief and reprimand.

“Oh, don’t be so _nervous_ , Sans—what could she possibly ask that we wouldn’t be able to answer?”

**I can think of a few things.**

You smiled secretly.

“So do we have a deal?” you asked, your voice schooled into innocence. “A question for a question?”

Sans hesitated for a second longer before nodding. Papyrus laughed with delight in his breathless, wheezing way as you continued on your patrol, figuring you could walk and talk with relative ease. “Ohhh, this sounds fun! First question: a-are we really friends?”

“‘pyrus, are you serious?” Sans said in a strangely low, lazy voice, laughing. You hummed internally, making note of the difference in his demeanour.

“What?” Papyrus asked, holding his hands up. “I want to _know_.” He turned to you with wide eyes. “I-if it’s not too presumptuous to ask, I mean!”

You couldn’t help yourself: you smiled, enchanted by Papyrus’s polite manners. Even just that morning, you never would have thought that you would be speaking to the two monsters in such familiar terms. You’d thought it would be impossible to even carry on a civilised conversation.

**This is certainly _looking_ promising.**

“I can’t speak for you, of course, but I consider you to be a friend.” Your smile grew as you saw the way Papyrus’s eyes practically glowed at your words. You decided to take a chance and be quite forward, by your standards. “I find you to be utterly charming, Papyrus.”

**Very clever. Maybe Sans was right about you, after all.**

You felt a small blush start on your cheekbones at your friend’s words. You hadn’t meant to be clever, or manipulative. You had actually been speaking the truth, strange as it was to admit.

**Oh?**

Papyrus’s eyes were wide, and pulsing visibly as he stared at you. “Ahhh…th-thank…th-thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled, surprised by your deepening blush. You looked away and cleared your throat, a tiny smile on your lips. “So! My turn.” You looked over at Sans, who had a strangely contemplative look pulling at his features. “Do you two _live_ in the mountain?”

“Yes,” Sans said simply. You raised your eyebrows at his terse response, but he just shrugged.

“What Sans means to say is: yes, our home is in the mountain.” Papyrus’s voice was still quite nervous, but he was no longer stuttering, so you figured he had already recovered from your exchange. “It’s…not very nice, but if you wanted to visit us, you could.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Sans muttered. 

You wondered if he’d meant you to hear it at all, because when you turned to him with, “Why not?” he seemed taken aback before his features returned to their neutral expression.

“Ah, that’s not how this works, remember? One question at a time. And it’s our turn now.” You nodded, conceding that point to him. “So I couldn’t help but notice you have a particular taste that isn’t exactly usual for humans.” Your stomach clenched softly as he spoke, and you knew what he was going to ask before the words left his mouth. “Why do you drink blood?”

**Let’s choose our words carefully here, hm?**

You gnawed at your lip before saying, “It’s as you say. I have an unusual taste for it.”

Sans looked unimpressed.

You sighed.

“Fine. If you must know…it’s for my health. I have a _need_ for it, on occasion. You so happened to come to me when I needed it, ah… _badly_.”

“What, are you a vampire or something?” Sans snorted, and you returned his mockery with a self-satisfied smile.

“Ah, that’s not how it works, _remember_?” You pointed to your chest. “It’s my turn. Why wouldn’t you recommend visiting you in the mountain?”

A hint of frustration passed over Sans’s face before he gave you an arrogant smirk. “The accommodation’s not up to your standards, _milady_. The food would make you sick.”

You gave him a dark look as Papyrus added, “Not to mention, if anyone else found you, you’d be killed on sight.”

Your feet carried you forward as your mind stuttered at his bluntness.

**Well, at least they had the courtesy to tell you.**

You stared ahead on the path, eyes wide. Yes, you certainly had been lucky to be found by these two, you supposed. If you could consider being found at all _lucky_.

“Now that we have your attention,” Sans said with sarcasm, and you turned your wide-eyed gaze on him. “ _Are_ you a vampire?”

You blinked, making a face through your shock. “Are you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Sans pointed out, and you shrugged.

“On three?” you suggested, and he gave the hint of a smile, shrugging back at you. “One, two, three—”

“No,” Sans and Papyrus both said.

“— _no_ , of course I’m not a vampire,” you said with a laugh. “How can I be something that doesn’t exist?”

Sans made a slight sputtering sound. “Then why did you ask us?”

“Because a week ago I didn’t think a Sans or Papyrus existed, either.” You gestured to him vaguely. “And you know that I’ve seen what you do to your victims.”

“Ohhh,” Papyrus said, nodding. “You thought Sans was _drinking_ their blood?”

“Of course I did,” you said. “Was he not?”

“No, no, no, he wasn’t _drinking_ their blood, he was—”

“Doing my job.”

You faced down Sans’s grim, unamused stare. His voice had come out flat, though there was an edge to it that left little room to argue. You decided to leave that one be for now.

“Well, so am I.”

“Your job is to drink blood?” Papyrus asked, sounding very confused. “That’s quite an odd job.”

You swallowed past your dry throat, shaking your head. “No, I’m, er, I’m one of the guards for the Home. I patrol to make sure no one trespasses.”

Papyrus sucked in air through his teeth, making an excited whine. “You’re a guard?”

You decided to let the extra question slide, considering he wasn’t really asking you. You nodded, and his fingers twitched as though he’d like to snatch you up again.

“Ohhh, this is wonderful! So am I!” Papyrus cried, making little stomps with his pointed feet. It reminded you of a seagull dancing for worms. You struggled not to smile. How could he manage to be so sweet while looking so monstrous?

“So you guard the hole?” you asked, kicking at a pebble as you came to a small clearing in the trees. You turned your face upwards, catching sight of the moon. It was so big in the sky, it took your breath away. Your lips parted softly with awe, and your heart thumped beneath your breast. You briefly pondered on how different your life was during this Cycle than it had been for the last.

The biggest difference, and one that surprised you nearly every day, was how content you were living in the valley, and the Home. You had dreaded being exiled to the north, but it had quickly become a home for you like you’d never had before. You hadn’t even been this calm when your mother was alive.

Though your life had certainly taken a strange turn since the arrival of Sans and Papyrus. You were now involved in an otherworldly mystery that seemed far bigger than you or indeed any human.

You had a passing thought, and you wondered if you would even be alive to see the next Blood Moon.

You felt long arms drape over you from behind, then, and an angular face rested on the top of your head. Papyrus’s sternum pressed into you as he hugged you back to him, his fingers stroking through your hair. You were grateful for the gloves he was wearing tonight. They helped to dull the sharpness of his fingertips as they combed against your scalp.

“Yes, I do,” Papyrus mumbled, tucking his face in the crook of your neck as his hand continued touching you in a way that could only be described as a caress.

“Wh-why didn’t you stop me from investigating, then?” you stumbled over your words, a hot flush starting at the base of your neck.

You closed your eyes, shame crawling across your body. You didn’t want to contemplate the shivers radiating from his touch. It was hard enough for you to acknowledge them at all—to fully put a name to what you were feeling was going too far for you right now.

**What’s the problem?**

The problem _was_ that you had never even been this tender with a _human_ man, much less the monster now also stroking your stomach with his thumb.

**So?**

_So_ , it was _wrong_ to feel arousal at a monster’s touch, especially a touch so innocently intended!

Your friend went quiet for a moment before laughing.

**Oh, sweetheart. Stop thinking so much, please. It feels nice, doesn’t it?**

…you reluctantly admitted that it did.

**Then just enjoy it.**

You took in a shuddering breath, hoping Papyrus did not notice. By his hum of contentment, you could guess that he hadn’t. His brother, however, was a different matter entirely.

Sans was standing slightly in front of you, to your left, his eyes dark and…resentful? His blood red pupils were pulsing very slowly, but powerfully. You were caught in his gaze, helpless in the light of the moon and Papyrus’s embrace.

You didn’t have a choice but to admit your feelings of arousal, inappropriate though they might be. You seemed unable to stop yourself, around these two monsters.

**At least you’re admitting to it.**

Your breath was shallow and weak with the effort it took to control your wanton behaviour. You may be forced to admit to it, but that didn’t mean you had to give in to it.

Your heart suddenly clenched with anxiety and unexpected arousal when Papyrus dug his fingers into your soft stomach and breathed in deeply against your neck. His grip wasn’t hard enough to pierce your skin as he had before, but it was enough to send a strange thrill straight to your core. Your eyes went wide, and you gripped his hand in both of yours instinctively.

Then Papyrus gave another low, contented hum, and your knees trembled when he murmured, “Because you’re different.” You were pressed tight against his bones, and you held him harder, still caught in Sans’s ever darkening expression. “You were curious. You weren’t scared, even when my brother almost caught you. You _talked_ to me.” His voice went softer, sibilant. “And you’re smitten with the moonlight, just as we are.” He took another deep breath. “I can _smell_ it on you. It’s intoxicating.”

“Papyrus…” you breathed, your fingernails scraping against his gloved bones.

“It isn’t just you, brother,” Sans said, his voice dipping into a growl. “I can smell her from here.” You squirmed against Papyrus, becoming uncomfortable with their talk of your infatuation. “Every time you stand under the moon, I can smell it. It’s almost as if you’re…drawn to something.”

Your attention sharpened at his words, and your lids narrowed ever-so-slightly. “If you’re trying to get me to admit to feeling the Call, you could have just asked.”

Sans gave a sudden smile, self-satisfied and lopsided. “Why bother with that, when I already know the answer? Of course you feel it. You’ve been climbing this mountain day and night. You’re here, right now, talking with _us_ , despite your fear. I think it’s undeniably clear that you’re under its thrall.” He shook his head. “No, what I’d much rather ask is _why_ you’re feeling it. Because girls in your…situation… _don’t_ feel the Call.”

“What do you mean by girls in _my situation_?”

Papyrus’s hands had settled over your middle, interlocking there and holding you close. You had hold of his bare arm bones, your fingers slipping into the space between them.

“You can’t expect me to believe you aren’t aware of your own pregnancy.”

You gaped at Sans.

Your friend snorted.

“Why—” you asked breathlessly, before clearing your throat and trying again. “Why would you think I was pregnant?”

“I can smell it in you.” The matter-of-fact way he spoke gave you pause, and you had the ludicrous thought of what if you _were_ and just didn’t know it? You didn’t have your woman’s bleeding anymore—you hadn’t, since your friend had settled in your body. How could you possibly be sure?

**You must be feeling sillier than I thought. You aren’t pregnant. I wouldn’t let it happen without your knowledge.**

You certainly _felt_ silly, but also relieved. You shook your head at Sans, who was watching you with sharp eyes. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Hm,” was all he said for a long few moments. You had the distinct impression he had already known you would say that, and had just wanted to hear it from you. “So, then…if you aren’t pregnant, why can I smell another presence within you?”

You froze.

You winced.

You had gotten yourself trapped into this. 

**Oh, dear, I’m afraid I didn’t expect that.**

“I can’t answer that,” you said, tearing your eyes away from Sans’s with great difficulty. 

“Can’t or won’t?”

You squirmed harder. “Does it matter?” You tugged at Papyrus’s hands gently. “Papyrus, please let me go.”

With a soft sound of surprise, Papyrus unlocked his fingers from around you, and you stepped away before he could ask why. As you did so, however, a rustling came from the underbrush at the opposite edge of the clearing, and loud, heavy footsteps echoed in the deathly silence, as though someone had run away at full sprint.

Someone had been eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Who was that?” you asked automatically, your voice betraying your slight panic. Who could possibly have followed you out here just to listen to you talk? Oh, no, what if it was one of the girls from the Home, and they had been scared by seeing you with Sans and Papyrus?

You opened your mouth to ask if Sans could smell who it was, but he was already saying, “Human. Male. Irregular heartbeat.” A flat, mask-like expression fell over his face. “I’ll go get him. Papyrus, you wait here with the human.”

“Wait—no, please!” you exclaimed at his words. There was no mistaking what he’d meant by ‘getting him.’ “Just let him go.”

Sans was already striding in the direction of the fleeing man. He snorted at your pleas, throwing over his shoulder, “No.”

“ _Please_ ,” you cried, determined to stop him from killing again. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to intervene the last time, but you had to try this time. You had to _try_. “At the very least let _me_ go after him, first. It’s my job, after all.”

You were shocked when Sans actually hesitated, just long enough for Papyrus to speak up with, “Sans, what harm could it do to let one human go?” His voice was calm, and soothing as he spoke to his brother. “We don’t need very much more for the Reaping. And it’s not as though anyone will believe a thing he says about monsters on the mountain.”

“He’s right,” you said, swallowing past the dryness in your throat. “No one believes talk like that during the Blood Moon. Everyone knows it’s just the madness taking them.”

Sans sent a quick, weak glare at you.

**Uh-oh. The teddy bear isn’t happy with us.**

You ignored your friend’s amused sarcasm, still on edge at the look in Sans’s eyes. He really _wasn’t_ happy, but you could tell he had already made his decision, by the simple fact that he wasn’t pursuing the man. After a long, tense silence, he growled low enough to send a chill through you.

“Fine,” he said, his voice hard and annoyed, looking away.

**Perhaps now would be a good time to leave.**

You couldn’t agree more. You were pleased you had helped convince Sans to spare the incredibly idiotic man who had thought he could spy without repercussions, because he had helped you narrowly avoid the uncomfortable question Sans had posed to you. You thought it would be best to leave the brothers and perform your duties elsewhere for now.

“I—I should probably go,” you stuttered, taking a couple steps backwards. Sans and Papyrus both snapped to face you, the former brother with suspicion and the latter with regret.

“S-so soon?” Papyrus asked, clearly disappointed.

You took another step away. “By the time I get back to the Home, it’ll be nearly time for morning prayers. I should be back before then to help with the chores.”

Sans’s eyes narrowed minutely. “Don’t you need to get some sleep first?”

You gnawed at your lip nervously, giving a quick flash of a smile. “No?” you answered, not wanting to give any more hints about your friend or their influence on you. You had the feeling Sans was already getting close to guessing your secret.

**If he does, it won’t be the end of the world.**

“It’s been very nice chatting with you two gentlemen,” you said, feeling absurd for using that word to describe them. It had just slipped out. “I’m very sorry to cut our conversation short, but I really must be going. So, ah, ta-ra!”

You turned to leave, ignoring the giggling coming from your friend about your slight awkwardness. Papyrus’s voice calling out to you stopped you in your tracks, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him looking after you with a strangely crestfallen expression.

“Will I see you again?”

The soft, hesitant way he spoke caused your heart to clench, warmth spreading from your chest to your face and limbs. A smile lifted the corners of your mouth, and before you could think too hard on your response, you said,

“Consider it a date.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: another brief interlude with the brothers.
> 
> Did this chapter just raise more questions, as usual? Come shout them at me over at my tumblr: tellcosy.tumblr.com


	14. Compulsion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step is admitting you have a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. I guess content warning? The slightest of sexual content? I'm bad at these?
> 
> Also I just wanted to say again: THANK YOU ALL FOR READING! I'm over the moon with how much you guys are liking this. I never thought it would be this well-received. I just thought I would be hunched over my laptop cackling like a swamp hag just writing this for the hell of it. So thank you all. Really. It's awesome to see so many other horror fans actually enjoying this.

 

Sans had been expecting Papyrus’s confession since they’d returned, but he was still surprised when it came, nevertheless.

His brother had been acting very strange all night and day, pacing up and down the space in front of their shared home, mucking through the bloody sludge without a single complaint. He would normally whine and mutter about how filthy everything was, and how much he hated it touching his bones, but that was completely absent now. Sans had been lounging on their dilapidated couch the entire time, keeping one eye on Papyrus through the dirty window as he rested. 

His brother was obviously, for lack of a better word, _distracted_.

Sans knew it had to be about the human. When was it not, anymore? Papyrus only ever thought about her, and what she might be thinking about _him_. Part of Sans wanted to tell Papyrus that she probably wasn’t thinking about him at all, and that he should just stop fretting over every little word she had spoken to him. But he didn’t want to be cruel to his brother.

Or…maybe he did. The last thing he wanted was for Papyrus to get too attached to that girl. It would _not_ end well for anyone. Humans and monsters were diametrically opposed by their attitudes alone, even without the added complication of their respective masters. So it would be easier if he could crush Papyrus’s budding affection. But…

It really wasn’t that simple.

Sans sighed and closed his other eye, dropping his head back against the hard arm of the couch. He didn’t really fit on the damn thing—his legs were pretty much fully off the side—but it was better than the floor. Especially when he was so tired. Keeping an eye on Papyrus and the human had exhausted him. He hadn’t really… _talked_ to anyone in a very long time. Much less a human. 

 _Much_ less such a well-spoken human.

But though the girl conversed with that quiet confidence draped about her like armour, Sans could tell that she was not comfortable talking to him, either. He wasn’t surprised. He was a monster—it was practically his job to be scary to humans. And he had never _not_ scared them. But still, every time she gave him one of her nervous, skittish glances at something he said, it had caused him a flicker of pride. Which was…strange. He had never felt pride at getting a reaction from a human. He had never felt anything about it. It would be like feeling shocked at seeing the sunset every night. It just _happened_. It wasn’t something to be proud of.

But he was. And he had no idea why.

Until he had heard her laugh.

At something _he_ had said.

For a moment—a _brief_ moment—he had understood Papyrus’s obsession. There was something alluring—yes, even intoxicating—about having the human’s attention. Watching her watching him from the corner of her eye. Seeing her smile at his brother— _truly_ smile. Even the questions she asked. The questions she avoided.

Sans found himself drifting.

The look in her eyes when she turned her face to the pregnant moon, her lips parting like petals unfurling in the spring, softly exposing her heart—her _soul_ —for him and his brother to see. Sans couldn’t ever blame Papyrus for wanting to wrap himself around her, just to get close to that soul.

Oh, how it _sang_ to him.

Sans clenched his teeth together, his clawed fingers digging straight through the flimsy material covering the couch. He didn’t want to be thinking about this, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t seem to stop. The image of her was burned into his mind. Her small body, trembling in his brother’s arms. Her eyes caught in his, heavily lidded with emotion. The smell of her arousal meeting his nasal cavity. The way her knees would clench together as soon as he caught the scent, as though she was trying to hold herself back. 

Sans took a deep, shuddering breath before exhaling in a rush, his ribcage clacking together with the force of it. He couldn’t keep _thinking_ about the girl.

 _Couldn’t_ … _think_ …of how her soul had pulsed inside her at the sight of him and Papyrus.

She had been pleased to see them.

She _wanted_ to see him.      

**_She wants to see you._ **

He buried his face against his arm, the darkness and coolness of his jacket doing nothing to soothe the mounting heat in his bones.

He _couldn’t think_ about how her eyes had lit with curiosity when she had taken his arm bones in her small hand in an approximation of a handshake. Her skin had been so soft, her touch strangely intimate. 

He huffed out a desperate breath into his sleeve, shaking his head. What was—what was he _thinking_? He had to stop. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want these memories twisting into something else, something he didn’t _want_ to feel.

His mind began conjuring images and sensations that had never happened— _would never happen_.

—soft fingertips stroking along his bare bones, a hand grasping their girth and pulling him against a warm body, _her_ body, her eyes begging him to touch her, to please her, to make her call his name out in the dark, the moon spilling across them and making her blood sing, call out for him, his magic crackling to life in response, her gasping pleads for him to take her, his hand stroking through her hair, her scent washing over him before he sank into her, teeth and magic and soul, her blood sending him into a frenzy, and she moaned and cried and screamed for him, her back arching desperately, she wanted him— 

She needed him.     

**_She needs you._ **

Sans was practically shaking, now, condensation gathering on his skull from the magical heat in his bones screaming for release. He felt like he was being pulled apart by the desire to go to her. His soul was pulsing hard enough to make him dizzy. He was sick— absolutely sick with dread. He had never felt a compulsion so strong in his life. His strings were being pulled taut, powerful and irresistible. 

He—had—to—            

 ** _Go to her_**.

“S-Sans?”

Sans’s eyes flew open as he startled, his head whipping around to see Papyrus standing over him, eyes wide and concerned.

Laughter whispered through his mind as the master slipped away with a promise to return.

Sans would not escape this.

He groaned loudly, trembling as Papyrus stepped up to his side and held his hands on either side of Sans’s face. He could barely see his brother’s eyes through his wavering vision.

“Sans, are you alright? Do you need manna?”

“No!” Sans bit out, probably louder than was strictly necessary. Papyrus didn’t seem to notice, just peering down at him with that serious expression. “No, I’m fine. Just had a little blackout. Nothing to worry about.”

Papyrus watched him for another few tense moments before Sans had to look away, unable to face his brother’s inspection. 

“Okay, Sans. I believe you.”

Finally, Papyrus’s hands fell away and Sans could wipe the dewy moisture from his skull. He felt awful—sick and exhausted, his soul clenching painfully beneath his chest plate.

He wanted desperately to apologise to Papyrus for the thoughts and visions he’d suffered through, but the sheer absurdity of the urge made him want to laugh like a lunatic. It wasn’t as though he had _wanted_ to see… _that_. He hadn’t _wanted_ to feel any of that. He had no idea why he’d been forced to—he hadn’t been subjected to compulsion in so long, he’d almost forgotten what it was like.

He certainly remembered, now.

Though he had no idea why it had even happened in the first place.

He hauled himself into a sitting position, leaving room for Papyrus to sit next to him on the couch, which he did silently. Out of the corner of his eye, Sans could see Papyrus pull out and begin twirling and bending a flower, its golden petals shredded. He turned to his brother fully, then, noticing the distraught expression he had. Sans shook himself out of his stupor, trying to forget his own discomfort to focus on Papyrus.

“You okay, ‘Pyrus?”

Papyrus was silent for a long while, his eyes on the flower in his hands.

“Sans,” Papyrus began, his sibilant voice much softer than usual. “What do you do when you think you might like someone…in a more-than-friendly way?”

Sans’s soul _really_ clenched, then. This wasn’t what he had thought Papyrus would be confessing. He’d thought he would admit to his obsession or his disappointment and Sans had thought that he could help him through it by offering an ear and sympathy that he wouldn’t really be feeling.

What could he possibly say to _that_?

Maybe…maybe Sans was misinterpreting the situation. He did that sometimes. Sometimes he missed out on physical cues, or bits of conversation that were the key to understanding. Maybe Papyrus wasn’t telling him he wanted the human as more than a friend.

“Why, uh…why would you ask me that? You have plenty of experience with stuff like that that. More than I do, certainly.”

Papyrus gave him a dull look that told him all he needed to know. No, he wasn’t talking about a monster. Sans knew that.

He knew that.

“What do I do, Sans?” Papyrus asked again.

“You…” Sans hesitated, before heaving a great sigh, “… _don’t_.”

Papyrus was obviously taken aback, but he quickly rebounded into anger as he stood, looming over Sans again. He held the flower as though it was the only thing keeping him from tearing into something. 

By the look on his brother’s face, he thought it was a distinct possibility that the something was his face.

“Is that really all you’re going to say? I came to you for _help_ , Sans!”

Sans just looked up at Papyrus, carefully keeping his face neutral. He said nothing.

Papyrus began pacing again, back and forth in front of Sans, the flower nearly falling to bits in his tight grasp. “I need your advice,” he pleaded, his voice pitched higher than before, but not as high as it could go. He was falling into one of his manic moments, his feet kicking at the ragged bits of rug in his path. “I’ve been thinking about her all day, and I don’t know how to proceed. I-I d-d-don’t—” A rolling shudder made its way through Papyrus’s bones, and he stopped dead, holding his hands to his head. “I-I-I d-d-don’t knooow…how to t-t-tell heeeeerrr…”

Sans reached out to take his brother’s hand, thinking to stop him before his panic grew, but Papyrus slapped him aside without thought, pacing once more. He was rending at the flower’s petals, now—tearing them off and pulverising them between his fingers. When he spoke, his voice had gone husky and thick, though a hissing note still wove underneath. “I-I don’t know—Sans, should I—should I tell her—tell her—” A gasping sound, and the flower was nearly decimated. “Sh-she’s ssssooo soft, and swee—” A hiccough. “—eeet!” 

Papyrus stumbled over a lump in the carpet, barely catching himself before continuing in his pacing as though he hadn’t even noticed. Sans had half-risen, but sank back down when he saw Papyrus was still worked into a frenzy. He couldn’t do anything, now. The only thing that would help his brother was to burn off his manic energy. “I w-waaant to hold her and—and tell her how _b-beautiful_ she—she—” He broke off, his ribs heaving, his eyes wide. 

“Sans,” Papyrus whispered suddenly, low and rough and incredibly focused. Sans raised his brow bones in response, though his brother wasn’t looking in his direction. “Sans, I want her. I want to make h-her mine.” He looked up to Sans with his wide eyes, lights pulsing with a strong, steady rhythm. “How do I make her want me?” he asked, nervous and desperate once more, though he never once stuttered.

Sans was practically frozen, staring up at his brother with deep unease. He had never seen Papyrus so calm when talking about something he wanted so badly. The destruction, the tantrum-like mood swings, the loud, angry mutters and stumbling over his words—all usual and expected from Papyrus when there was something forbidden he wanted. 

But that quiet, focused energy…

…that _determination_ …

…it sent a chill through Sans’s soul.

This was not going to end well for anyone.

When he realised Papyrus was waiting for an answer from him, he shook himself and looked away, scraping his hand over his skull. “Uh, I don’t think I’m going to be much help, ‘Pyrus. It’s not like I know the girl any more than you do.”

“What would _you_ do, though?” Papyrus asked, swooping down into crouch, directly in Sans’s line of sight. “If you wanted to woo a woman like Frisk, what would you do?”

A woman like her…    

**_Yesss, a woman like her…_ **

Whispers started at the back of Sans’s mind, and he closed his eyes again, covering his face with his hand. “Uh,” he grunted, hunched over as he tried to answer his brother without thinking about the compulsion he had felt only just before. “I really can’t help you, ‘Pyrus. I don’t know what humans want.”

“She—she’s not like other humans, though.” Papyrus murmured, almost sounding in awe. “Do you think I should bring her another meal?” he asked suddenly, full of excited energy. “I liked eating with her, and I think she liked it too!”

Sans was certain she had liked it. Even though she had technically answered the question of why she had such a voracious appetite for blood, she had done it all while carefully sidestepping the full truth. And Sans could not get that thought out of his head. It made him annoyingly curious. What was she trying to hide? He was positive it had something to do with the scent of pregnancy constantly wafting from her now, heady and thick. She had completely shut down when he’d asked her to explain that. It must be related.

Still, she had seemed a little skittish at the mention of eating another of their sort of meals with them. Or maybe it was just _around_ them?

An image entered his mind, then, of the girl hunting in the forest, her teeth bared with feral excitement as she cornered a stag, sinking her knife into its heart before groaning and sinking her teeth into its neck, tearing at the flesh.

Sans didn’t know whether to laugh or shudder.

Another thought came, unbidden. The memory of watching her devour the hare with wild abandon, eagerly taking everything offered from his brother’s careful hands, making soft keening sounds when Papyrus took his share. Sans was disgusted with himself to admit that he had felt a stirring in his soul at the sight. But he’d just pushed that aside as quickly as it had come, as he was doing so once more at the memory. It wasn’t really his fault, after all. It was only natural to react that way, seeing the combination of Papyrus’s self-satisfaction at the girl’s pleasure with his gift, and the heavy-lidded, drunken way she had looked between them afterwards, a small smile teasing her lips.

Natural or not, though, he had never been so relieved to see the sunrise.

“Sans?” Papyrus whispered, reaching out and pulling his hand away from his face. He clenched his jaw, looking down at Papyrus with guilt eating away at his soul. How could he be thinking of the human like this? Hadn’t he been telling Papyrus how stupid it was to feel anything other than indifference for her? “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Sans stammered, giving Papyrus’s sharp fingers a squeeze before dropping his hand. He tried a smile. “Just a little tired.” He was stiff from the effort to keep his bones from clacking together. “And, uh, I think maybe it would be better to start with something else. Something a little less…” He gestured vaguely. “...intimate?”

Papyrus seemed to be considering his words, his knees still pulled up to his chest as he crouched. Finally, he tilted his head the barest amount, his eyes piercing into Sans’s. “Sans, are you…feeling a compulsion?” When he spoke, his soft, but direct tone sent a bolt of fear through Sans’s soul.

Had he been so obvious? What had given him away? He had always tried to hide them from everyone, even Papyrus. He never wanted anyone to know just how hard he struggled against them, especially when he ultimately gave in anyway.

He gave a choked laugh, unsure of whether it would be better to confess to Papyrus or lie and say he wasn’t feeling anything.

“Don’t worry,” Papyrus said, giving him a warm smile and causing his soul to ache with more guilt. “Whatever it is, you’re strong enough to resist. You always have been.”

Laughter.                

**_Heee…_ **

“I’m…really not, ‘Pyrus. But I appreciate your confidence in me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No! I’m fine,” Sans snapped, closing his eyes against more images flickering against his mind’s eye. He didn’t want to see any more. He took a deep breath and began to gather his soul’s power, building a wall around his mental space. It did very little, but there was no longer a barrage of unwanted thoughts. It had slowed to a trickle, but it somehow made it worse, as each one lingered in his mind, taking its time to move on. He tried to think on anything else, but it was as though his mind had been pinned down, forced to watch every horrible thing that pressed against his vision.

He hadn’t heard Papyrus move away from him, but suddenly there was a tin cup of something warm pressed into his trembling hands. His eyes opened sluggishly, and he peered down at the thick golden-red liquid in the mug. It looked like the sky during a sunset, the Blood Moon rising opposite, reaching out to the dying sun with greedy arms. 

Manna.

Sans shuddered once. Twice. Tried to resist.

Failed.

Downed the entire cup in one gulp, feeling its horrible tendrils clinging to his bones and settling around his soul.

It numbed the pain that had resulted from his resistance to the compulsion, but the sensation of fingers prodding and invading his soul made him want to retch it all back up. It was almost as bad as the visions, which had settled down as soon as he had drunk.

Almost.

Sans took one more deep draw of breath, unnecessary as it was, and laughed shakily, looking up at Papyrus with something akin to self-disgust. “See? I can’t even get through one compulsion without needing this. I’m not strong at all, ‘Pyrus. I’m too weak to live without it.”

Papyrus gave him another of his long, piercing looks before holding out a hand to Sans, who took it without thinking, allowing himself to be supported as he stood. “Sans, I want to show you something.”

Sans said nothing in response, just allowing himself to be led into his brother’s room and standing behind him as he unlocked the small cupboard space there. Papyrus folded himself inside for a brief moment, reaching deep in for the small, grubby wooden box he drew out. He was looking down at the box as he shuffled closer to Sans, cradling it to his chest. Sans had a bad feeling about this.

Without a word of explanation, Papyrus opened the lid of the box, sending Sans reeling back at the sight of what was inside.

Dozens of vials of manna, all unopened.

“‘Pyrus, are those—are you—” Sans grabbed hold of his brother’s face with both hands, peering into his eyes to look for evidence of pain. “Are those _yours_?”

Papyrus nodded.

“Are you _okay_?” Sans asked, his voice climbing an octave. His soul was pounding so hard behind his chest. He was terrified for his brother.

The small ridges over Papyrus’s eyes shifted higher, and a small, indulgent smile tugged at his mouth. “I’m fine, Sans.”

Sans looked between the unused manna in the box and Papyrus’s face, seemingly untwisted by the pain that should have been tearing him apart.

He was…he was so confused…

“Papyrus, what have you _done_?” Sans whispered, horrified. He wanted to look away, to stop thinking about it _immediately_ , just in case their master was listening. “How are you— _how_ _did you—_ ”

“I just _stopped_.”

Sans flinched back again, his eyes narrowing for a moment before going wide. “No, but—but that’s not possible. You’ll die—I don’t know how you aren’t in pain _now_ , but you have to take one now or you’ll _die_ —”

Papyrus stopped his terrified ramblings with a soft rap of knuckles against his skull. “Sans, look at me. _I’m fine_. I’m not going to die. I’m not even feeling the compulsions anymore.”

Sans’s attention narrowed to a fine point at his brother’s words. “What?” he whispered.

Papyrus nodded, setting the box to the side and taking Sans by the shoulders. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I hate seeing you in such pain. I haven’t told you before now because you seemed fine carrying on with the bare minimum still.” He gave Sans a gentle sway forward and backward. “But whatever it’s putting in your head now is obviously causing you great distress. I just—wanted to let you know there’s another way to stop it. It isn’t _easy_ , but…it’s worth it, I think.”

Sans shook his head slowly, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what Papyrus had just revealed to him.

Years…

Decades…

Centuries…

He had consumed.

He had followed the Master with blind acceptance, thinking there was no other way. Closeness was something that every monster craved— _needed—_ desired with every drop of magic in their soul. Manna was the answer. It slunk into the soul and created a bond between the Master and the monster. It blurred memories. It numbed the pain, it soothed the anger, it stoked the fires of the soul. It was a gift—a miracle in liquid form, and every monster would happily kill just for a drop of it. There was so little of it, though, that only certain monsters were chosen.

Sans had been one of the first chosen.

It had been such an honour, of course.

Until the moment it wasn’t anymore.

There was always a catch to something that made anyone feel as good as manna could. And the catch was: once a monster consumed it, they couldn’t _stop_ consuming it. Or they would eventually die, their mind and soul tortured by the compulsions forced onto them. First, though, they would be driven mad by the pain. Their soul would twist and wither and rot away, until they were no longer the monster they had been before that single taste.

At least…that’s what everyone had _thought_.

The reveal that Papyrus had been neglecting his own share of the manna all while suffering little or no repercussions had Sans dizzy.

He had no idea what he would do with the knowledge.

He needed time to think about it.

“Papyrus,” Sans choked out before shaking his head and trying again, his voice coming out smoother. “‘Pyrus, I don’t know how you did this, but…you’re playing with fire. You may not have died when you stopped taking it, but what if the Master finds out?” A thought passed through his mind, and he coughed out a bitter laugh. “Hell, what if _Alphys_ finds out you’ve been surviving without telling—”

“She’s already stopped taking so much, as well,” Papyrus said, looking slightly smug. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her, too.”

Sans grunted absently, his mind whirling. “Surprised Undyne lets you get close enough to.”

Papyrus giggled, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “What is Undyne going to do? Clank at me?”

“She’s still got enough fight in her to break you in half, ‘Pyrus,” Sans muttered, shaking his head. His eyes snapped back to Papyrus’s, narrow and slightly awed. “When did you get so defiant?”

Papyrus seemed to puff up slightly at his brother’s praise, though his eyes lowered with something like sadness only a moment later. “Being alone so much gave me a lot of time to think. I suppose I simply thought myself through to the other side of my fear.”

Sans felt a twinge of annoyance for Papyrus’s sake. His brother was a naturally social monster, but he had been given guard duty a long, long time ago, forced to stay at the entrance to Underground while everyone else could mingle. It was meant to be a punishment, but Sans couldn’t help but think that Papyrus had come out on top, even so.

At least he wasn’t a slave anymore.

“Still,” Sans said, scraping his fingers against his jaw thoughtfully. “Maybe it would be better to not be reckless anymore?” At Papyrus’s tilt of his head, Sans sighed. “You have to admit it’s practically suicide to be trying to court a human— _that one_ in particular.”

“How so?” Papyrus asked, his finger bones clacking onto his jutting hips. “She might be feeling the Call, but she’s resisted it so far. She’s strong.”

“And that’s exactly why it’s suicide,” Sans pointed out. “You _know_ who’s joining the hunt now. And she won’t _let_ the girl resist. She won’t stand a chance. Why bother going to the effort with getting to know her— _liking_ her—only to lose her in the end?”

“Because it won’t happen, Sans,” Papyrus said softly, almost too quiet to hear. “Because she doesn’t deserve that fate.”

Sans thought about the other girls who had been taken already, and the screams that echoed from their chamber. He had never been bothered by the fate of the men he had drained, but he had _never_ been able to force himself to go anywhere near the Birthing Room.

It sent him into cold chills, thinking about Frisk joining the girls, her screams rising above the others as she begged for death.

“ _That_ is why I’m going to go, Sans. Even if it is suicide.”

Sans realised there was a yawning pain opening deep within his soul. Papyrus was so determined—it was painfully obvious by the clench of his jaw and the pulsing of his eyes—that there was no possibility of convincing him otherwise. Sans wasn’t going to make the mistake of trying. It would be wasted effort.

No.

Instead…

He couldn’t believe he was even considering the thought that was passing through his mind and settling deep in his soul.

But there was no other option for him.

“Okay.”

Papyrus looked at him with slight confusion. Sans grimaced in a poor excuse for a smile.

“Then I guess I’m in this ’til the end, too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: someone joins the hunt.
> 
> I LOVE TUMBLR~ TUMBLRS ARE GREAT~ GIMME GIMME i think there's been a mistake CRUSH THE TUMBLR, ALL OVER MY FACE! tellcosy.tumblr.com


	15. A Gift of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making decisions for the greater good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I took forever on this one, and I'm still not sure about it. Such is life! You can smack me down in the comments if it's sub-par.
> 
> librarydrone made a playlist for this fic! You can find it over [ hyeah! ](http://librarydrone.tumblr.com/post/142877327473/moths-to-a-flame-playlist) It's awesooome!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and, uh...e-enjoy!

 

 

The chill of winter crept in the air.

The snap of death was in the trees.

The sun’s rays barely broke through the clouds.

It was harvest time.

You stood on top of the bell tower, gripping the archway gently. From this high up, you could see the entire valley. The hills and forest that surrounded the Home. The small villages in the distance. Even further than that was the city and the sea, you knew, though you couldn’t see those from your position.

Then there was the mountain.

Ever present.

Always watching.

Casting its shadow closer and closer to the Home with every passing day.

Reaching out for you.

You gripped the stone archway harder as your foot slipped forward off of the lip of the cupola.

**Be careful.**

You _were_ being careful. You hadn’t meant to move at all.

**…I wish you wouldn’t come up here anymore.**

You could understand that. You were a little nervous about it, yourself, even though you loved to be this high up. It was very still and silent, and it helped to calm your wandering soul. And you had _needed_ to be calmed. You had been suffering since you had left the brothers, your eyes and body and heart drawn back to the mountain with alarming frequency. 

You had tried talking to the matron about your urges, but she had been fully entrenched in making the rounds between her wards’ rooms, keeping an eye on the sisters to be sure they had everything under control. You had given her a passing request for a meeting with her as you walked with her to her next room. You’d asked for it be sooner rather than later, and had left her to her charge as soon as she had agreed to see you after supper.

Which was good, because you didn’t know how effective you would be as a guard for the girls if you couldn’t be trusted to not wander off to the mountain, yourself.

**I will keep you under control until then.**

You smiled softly, appreciating your friend’s gesture. Unfortunately, you knew just how strongly they were feeling the Call to the mountain, as well. And you were worried about that more than about yourself, if you were being honest. Your friend had never felt anything like that since you’d known them, while you were always prone to being flighty.

**Don’t worry. We will find out who or what is doing this and we’ll put a stop to it.**

A cold wind blew into the cupola, and you shivered. It smelled like rain.

You had to ask if your friend was sure.

**When have I ever not been sure of myself?**

You took a deep breath through your nose, your eyes scanning the grounds below you. Times when your friend had been unsure of themselves? Well, there was one recent time you could remember…

**That was _different_. I wasn’t expecting that.**

You wondered how your friend could possibly expect whatever it was that was calling them to the mountain now, if they couldn’t then.

**Doubting me? I’m hurt.**

You were fully confident that they weren’t.

**Regardless, I won’t be caught off guard again.**

You sighed, swaying slightly forward. The first droplets of rain fell just in front of you, splatting heavily on the stone parapet below. You leaned out of the safety of the cupola to turn your face to the sky, peering up at the tall greenish clouds crowding over the Home. The wind picked up and pulled your coattails forward, carrying the scent of flowers on its breath. You inhaled deeply, eyes closing for a moment.

Oh, it was so sweet and warm. It reminded you of home—a _real_ home, where you were safe and loved and happy. 

**Time to get back to your room, it seems.**

When they opened once more, you were turned toward the mountain, and you were stepping up and gripping the side of the archway with both hands to allow yourself to lean fully out.

**What are you doing?**

The clouds over the mountain were dark and full, giving it an ominous, yet artistic appearance. It looked so pretty from here, like an oil painting. You had loved a painting much like it in your old home in the south. You had stared at that painting for hours when you were young. Your grip loosened as the wind tugged at you mercilessly, edging you further off the lip of the cupola. You heard your name whispered in the airy tendrils that plucked and pleaded with you.

Your hands slipped away from the stone.

**Get back, Frisk! Look away!**

The forceful call of your name shocked you from your stupor, and you gasped as you realised you had one foot reached out mid-air as though you had been about to take a step.

You clambered for a grip, any grip, but your slick hands slipped right off the stone archway as you teetered. A scream tore loose from your throat as you nearly tumbled over the edge, only for your fingers to find purchase on the dry wooden shutters of the window. You swung perilously, half of you dangling in open air before you managed to drag yourself back inside. You tumbled to the frozen stone floor, trembling and gulping in deep lungfuls of breath. Your eyes were wide as your vision wavered with the force of your heartbeat.

You tried to haul yourself to your feet, but your arms were weak with panic, and you collapsed back to the floor, curling into a ball. You had to calm down. You were losing control.

**It’s okay. You’re back inside. Just breathe.**

You were breathing, but no oxygen was registering in your lungs. You could feel the air enter and leave, but your mind was a whirlwind as it screamed at you that you were choking. There was no air to breathe and dear God, someone help! 

**Calm, now, take deep breaths. You are breathing. You are fine. Just breathe.**

Your lungs were getting smaller, clenching tight enough that you could barely force a gasp of breath inside. Your vision was narrow, now, darkening quickly. You clawed at your neck and beat at your chest, willing your body to work, work, don’t kill you, please oh God you couldn’t die like this—

**You aren’t going to die. You’re just panicking. Sweetheart, look at me now.**

As you choked down fast pants, you looked inside yourself, to the deep darkness that dwelled within your heart and mind. You reached for them, begging for them to take over your body and save you. You felt them resist calmly.

**There you go, now just breathe. You can do this. You don’t need me. You can do this.**

You couldn’t do it alone. You were letting go, you were almost unconscious now, you could only hear the high hissing that accompanied the encroaching darkness, they would have to take control—

**Shhh, now, just focus on breathing.**

Your body twitched and spasmed, your muscles cramping and stiffening as you attempted to force control onto your friend. They were persistent, though, whispering to you that you could do this, you could save yourself. You were sobbing now, your back arching as your breathing slowly…slowly…slowly calmed. 

**That’s it. Just…breathe…**

You were shaking like a leaf, limp on the floor as the sound of the thunderstorm outside finally broke through the thick static in your ears. It was wild and torrential—rain flew in at you from the open window, and you peered up through narrow, slightly reddened eyes. The sky was dark and angry, now, and the wind whipped through the opening in the cupola, frenzied.

It still smelled of flowers.

**You _need_ to get back on ground level. Now.**

You shivered with fear as you dragged yourself into a sitting position. As soon as you moved, you heard shouting for you from below. You took a quick breath and crawled over to the top of the ladder to the lower section of the bell tower, where the bell itself waited.

And now, the matron as well, her face twisted with obvious concern as she looked up at you through the small opening.

“Child, are you well? A sister heard you scream and ran to get me.”

You pulled yourself closer, swinging your legs over the edge and edging down onto the ladder carefully, not fully trusting your legs to support you at the moment. You managed, though, and by the time you were at the bottom, you could stand with relative ease, your knees quivering only slightly. The matron held you steady by the shoulders, looking down at you with sharp eyes, obviously inspecting you for any signs of possession. You smiled up at her sheepishly, swiping the tears from your face with a shaky hand.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, not wanting to worry her more than she already would be. “I just had a bit of a scare.”

**That was _more_ than a _scare_ , and you know it. You should tell her. She’s supposed to be helping us fight the Call, isn’t she? How are we supposed to know what to fight if she hasn’t told you what causes it?**

You stared up at the matron with an empty gaze as she spoke, her words overridden by your friend’s. You were still very raw from your panic, and you didn’t know who to speak to first.

“—are you listening to me?”

You blinked, and took a shaky breath. “I wasn’t, Matron, I’m sorry. My f—I mean, _Fairchild_ was talking to me. They want you to explain the Call.” Your eyes came back into focus, and you searched the matron’s suddenly suspicious eyes. “Please, I know we had a meeting for later, but I—” _I nearly just died_ , you wanted to say, but the words died in your throat, dry and choking. It was true, though. You had nearly just died. All because you were under such a strong thrall.

A strange sound came from your throat then, and you had to rush over to the grand archway past the bell that opened out onto a parapet. You took great gulping gasps of air, unmindful of the cold rain now soaking through you. It helped cool you as your heart raced once more, faced with the reality that you had nearly lost your life. 

You had been so careless again, even after you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. You had intended that for your interactions with Sans and Papyrus, though. You’d neglected to consider the strength of the pull on your heart. You hadn’t thought it would ever be able to influence you physically, with your friend there to stop you.

**We have to work together to stop it from doing this again. You need to talk to the matron now.**

You agreed as you stood trembling in the rain, your breath visibly whisking away to join the wind throwing the storm around. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you looked over to see the matron standing next to you, attempting to hold back the rain with a wide umbrella. You smiled wetly up at her, taking it from her hands and bracing it for her. You were both still getting soaked, but it was mostly on your trouser and skirt hems. You felt bad for making her stand in the rain, so you made to step back under the cover of the bell tower.

“No, I think perhaps it’s best if we stay out here for the moment, at least while I tell you this. It won’t be long, and the chill in the air will keep you focused,” the matron said in her calculating way, surprising you. You just nodded your head, though, and shifted so that you were protecting her from the majority of the rainfall. The last thing you wanted was for her to catch cold from the wet.

“Thank you,” you murmured, grateful that she seemed to understand the gravity of your need.

“Don’t thank me yet, child.” You didn’t get time to digest that oddly unnerving opening before the matron continued. “The Call, simply put, is manipulation. It is the exploitation of certain people by using their natural tendencies against them.” She glanced over at you, and you understood what she was trying to say. Your wanderlust. Your desire to constantly be moving onwards, towards the next thing, as though you’d always been looking for something important you’d lost. You’d already put that much together, though you didn’t inform the matron of that. You didn’t want to interrupt her.

“Some people have a hole in their heart that can only be filled with a certain desire—a lust for something intangible, unknowable. It’s different for everyone. Some want love. Some want passion. Some merely want…a place to belong.” A look crossed the matron’s face as she spoke in nearly a whisper: sadness, mixed with something that might have been regret. “Once it makes its home in that hole, it whispers to them. Whispers their deepest desires…makes promises… _lies_ to them.”

The matron paused, her hands clasped together in front of her, tendrils of her hair flying free of her bun and whipping across her stern face. You were suddenly hit with the image of a younger woman in front of you, her auburn hair braided and pinned back in a crown. Golden flowers wove through her hair as the sun shone behind her in an aureole, her laughter just as brilliant as the sunset. She had a dusting of freckles across her slim, slightly crooked nose, bow-shaped lips that were never far from a smile, and sea green eyes that pierced through you as though she could peer into your very soul.

She was _beautiful_.

There was a sound like a breath slipping through soft lips, and your friend stirred.

**Ahhh…that was so long ago.**

You shook your head slightly. Was your friend saying that that image had been their memory of the matron? If so, how had they known her so long ago?

**She was here with your aunt. They were…friends.**

You were absolutely taken aback at that, but the matron was continuing once more, so you had no time to dwell on the impossibility.

“Soon enough, if they allow themselves to be swayed by the whispers, they will find their feet on the path to the mountain.” Her lips pursed slightly, and her hands tucked into her habit. “Never to be seen again.”

You swallowed. You knew where the journey led to, certainly, but you still needed to know… “Why? Why does this happen? What’s doing this to them? And…me.”

The matron seemed to consider her words before she sent a bitter smile your way. “I wish I knew, child.”

“But—” you responded immediately, your brain circling around her words. “If you don’t know what is doing this, or why, then how did you even know it happens?”

You could feel your friend’s attention grow closer, as though they were leaning forward eagerly.

The matron’s eyes pierced into yours, and you could see the girl she used to be peer at you from within, as if she reached a hand out to you from a safe place.

“Because once upon a time, all I desired was a place to call my own. A place I could call _home_.”

Your mind slotted the puzzle pieces together.

“And I had no one to save me from myself.”

You almost reeled back from her, but stopped yourself when thunder clapped overhead, reminding you that you were still out in the rain and must keep her dry. You were slightly dizzy, still, and you had to reach up to the pebble charm around your neck, tracing the shape of it with your thumb. The motion soothed you enough for you to voice your question.

“Are you saying that you…fell?”

“I was taken under the mountain, yes.”

“So if you didn’t resist the Call, then how do you not know who it is that’s doing the Calling? Or what happens to the others?”

Another sad smile. “I was taken in by two monsters, and told I had been…spared the typical fate by my rescuers. They were not forthcoming as to whom had Called me there in the first place, or what was intended for the unlucky ones. I was kept away from most of the Underground, sheltered from its horrors. I was told I was _different_. Special.”

You really did flinch at that, and the matron noticed how uncomfortable you looked. “Ah, but perhaps that is a story for another day.”

You nearly begged her to continue, to tell you if the ‘two’ she had been speaking of were—were _your_ two.

**When did they become _yours_?**

You had no answer to that.

The rain lashed against you, and the smell of flowers clung to your skin. 

“In any case, child, I have had many years to think on my mistakes, and to pinpoint how I may keep others safe from meeting the same fate. I’ve found that the best chance at resistance is simply to fill one’s heart with those things which combat emptiness _.”_

Her gaze flickered to yours before turning to the mountain.

“Dedication. Perseverance.” She smiled, though it wasn’t happy. “Love.”

Sans’s words bolted through your mind like a fish springing from the ocean. “S—ah, one of my friends said that pregnant women do not feel the Call.”

The matron nodded. “Nor women who are past their fertile times. Or those who are happily married.” She gave a soft snorting laugh. “To their lover or their God, whichever they may choose. The only required vow is utter devotion, with very little room left in their heart for doubt.”

You were beginning to feel a bit sick at the thought of what it could possibly mean, that only those who were unattached, unhappy, and…unburdened by child could feel the Call.

The rain was suddenly much colder than it was before.

“Matron. If the requirements include fertility and a certain detachment…do you suppose they are using them to—to—” You couldn’t say it. It was too awful.

“To breed with?” the matron filled in for you, her eyebrows raised high. You nodded, swallowing. “I’m afraid that’s what the evidence points to, my child.”

You were frozen to the spot, before you held a hand to your face, slumping over somewhat. 

If that were true, and Sans and Papyrus were involved with forced breeding…how could you _possibly_ speak to them as if they weren’t irredeemable beasts?

**That’s a good question. How do you speak to _me_ , knowing what I have done?**

That wasn’t comparing like for like, though, was it?

**How not?**

The most glaringly obvious difference was the fact that you were friends.

**Yes? And did that not take years to establish? Years of uncertainty and taking many leaps of faith?**

You reluctantly conceded that point. However, the trust you held in your friend was largely due to the fact that you knew their motivations.

**…Do you, though?**

You began to agree that of course you did, but then you thought about the implication of them asking. Did you _really_ know your friend so intimately? Did you really know what they wanted from you?

 _Could_ you ever truly know?

You had so many questions that your head was spinning. You wanted to ask them all at once: what was it like under the mountain? Did she know Sans and Papyrus? Were they really the ones who had rescued her? What did they do with all the bodies they collected? Did all monsters collect blood like Sans did, or was he unique? How had she _escaped_ from the mountain?

“Dear Lord.”

Your eyes snapped up to the matron at her soft exclamation. She wasn’t looking at you, however—her face was turned outwards and down, to the grounds below. Your eyes followed the direction of her gaze, and you scanned for what had caused her such immediate distress. Your heart gave a mighty thump when you spotted it.

A girl.

No, not _any_ girl. The same girl you had seen the night before, her long ashen hair unmistakable, drenched as it was in the downpour. She was headed to the mountain, her long, steady stride having already taken her to the forest’s edge.

You cursed loudly, forgetting your manners in the urgency of the situation. You turned immediately, thrusting the umbrella into the matron’s waiting hands, hurrying to the doorway as her words chased after you,

“Be careful, child! Do not forget what I have told you!”

You skidded down the circular steps of the bell tower, taking them by twos and threes where you could. You flew through the hallways and corridors of the Home, shouting to announce your presence where you might barrel into a sister or patient. You burst through the gated metal archway past the courtyard, the guards calling to you as you slipped on the slick cobblestones before regaining your footing. You ignored the guards’ questions about your haste, and instead set into a sprint, your feet digging into the rain-softened earth.

You were being battered by the storm as you pursued the escaped girl, the cold rain mixing with the eerily warm wind whipping around your legs. Rivulets of water were streaming down your face, partially obscuring your vision as you ran, and you had to keep reaching up to swipe it away. The cloying scent of flowers was wrapping around your head, almost choking you in its strength. 

You finally found the set of footprints squashed into the grass and earth, leading from the Home’s dormitories, and you followed them without a thought. You were finding it difficult to determine where the trail led after some time, though, due to the rain. You thought you might have taken a wrong path when you went several long moments without spotting another definite print. You were panting heavily with exertion, getting nearly halfway up the mountain before you thought you spotted a flash of white-blonde hair and a  hem whipping in the wind.  

**Be careful, someone is here!**

You were about to huff that of _course_ someone was there—you had just _seen_ her—but then you were struck from behind by a large, heavy body that wrapped its arms around you and began hauling you away from the girl. You shouted hoarsely, digging your heels into the earth to give yourself traction as you thrashed your upper body within their grasp. A man’s grunts came from the person, and with a mighty twist and falling motion, you managed to break free of him. You were only going to spare a moment to catch the face of who had accosted you, so that you could properly punish them later, but their face stopped you dead.

It was Zachary, the constable’s son, panting with effort and clutching at his chest weakly as you met his deep brown eyes with a wide-eyed stare. You hadn’t seen him in years, and the sight of him sent you reeling.

“Zach, what—” you breathed, shaking your head. “What are you doing here?”

“Never mind that!” he grabbed for you as if to take hold of you once more, but you backed out of his reach. “We have to go! There is something horrible happening on this mountain!”

You gave a hard shake of your head. “No—I mean, I _know_ , but I can’t leave! There’s a girl who needs me.” You turned to leave again, but he leapt forward and hauled on your hand. You were pulled close, and you could smell his fear in the musky, sweaty scent rolling off of him. His short black hair was plastered to his skull, making him look even more hollow-cheeked than usual. Your lip curled and you tried to yank yourself free, but he held fast.

“Frisk,” he gasped, his eyes wild and determined. “I’m here to save you! I saw you last night, I saw what those demons have done to you—”

You gave a hard, firm pull, wincing as you wrenched your shoulder in the process. “Zach, I don’t know why you’re here, or why you think it is your business what I do, but I _don’t have the time_. Go home before you get hurt!”

You turned your back on him, striding quickly in the direction you last saw the girl leave, but you were waylaid once more after only a few steps. You felt him scrabbling for your hand as he shouted desperately,

“No, you have to listen to me! I know those demons have you under some kind of spell—it’s happened to my dad, too—but I have to get you out of here. I need—” You took a swing at him as he pulled you off balance, trying to get you up and over his shoulder. You yelped, your feet slipping on the muddy path. You both nearly tumbled down, but you managed to free yourself in the scuffle. “—I need your _help_! You’re the only one who can help me! My dad is _sick_!”

You glared and panted heavily with the effort of your tussle. Zach looked extremely pale, and you knew he couldn’t keep up with you much longer. His irregular heart was his weakness—it always had been—and he was paying for his exertion already. He was pale as Death. “I don’t care if the bloody Pope is on his deathbed in your home—I have a _job_ to do! Go home and come back to me when I’m not trying to save someone’s life!”

He gave one last attempt to leap on you and drag you away, but you caught him solidly in his chest and shoved him backwards. He stumbled hard but caught himself, giving you a wounded and confused look. You pointed at him seriously. "Don't follow me! Or you _will_ learn just how dangerous this mountain is. I’ve saved your life once; I don’t think I’d manage it a second time.”

You turned and took off before he could recover and try again, and you heard him call after you as you fell into a sprint,

“This isn’t over, Frisk! I’ll be back for you!”

You paid his threatening tone no mind, too focused on looking for any sign of the girl’s path to take them to heart.

You scanned the area with intense scrutiny, but frustratingly, you couldn’t spot a single sign of where the girl had gone. You weren’t anywhere near the hole, and you couldn’t think of where else she could possibly be headed.

You had failed.

**Listen…what’s that sound?**

You looked up, perking up your ears to try to listen past the sound of the storm and your own heavy breathing. You had to strain your hearing for several seconds before you caught the faintest sound of talking coming from your left. 

It sounded like…two women. 

You ran in the direction of the voices without hesitation, slamming past branches and thick brush. You burst through into a wide, narrow clearing, trees edging up to a small stream that fell off into a wide crack in the mountain. You’d never seen this area before. You were pulled from your quick inspection by the sight of the girl you’d been chasing leaning over the crack in the mountain, seemingly about to fall in.

“Hallo there!” you shouted without thought, merely wanting to stop the girl before she was pulled in by her own thrall.

She snapped up ramrod-straight at your call, her head whipping around to where you were striding towards her. Her eyes were large and wide, and you could see how brilliantly blue they were from several yards away. She seemed extremely skittish, with her hands clasped at her breast and deep worry lines twisting her features as she fell back a step, but when you got closer, recognition bloomed in her eyes.

“Hello,” she spoke softly, her voice airy and wistful. “Are—aren’t you one of the guards at the Home?”

“Hallo?” you heard just as you were nodding to the girl. Your eyes narrowed with surprise—though, thinking about it, you _had_ heard two voices, after all. You just couldn’t see where the other voice had come from. “Who is there?”

The voice was definitely a woman’s, or girl’s—high, but full and soft. Strangely, it echoed. You still couldn’t see where it was coming from, though, until you drew level with the pale girl and looked down.

There, peering out of the darkness of the cracked earth, was a woman, clinging desperately to a craggy, jutting rock. You could only see her face and upper body from above, as the rest of her seemed to be trapped in the tight space the crack afforded. She was petite and pretty, with large, dark eyes and a heart-shaped mouth, though her skin held a slight, odd purplish tint to it. You thought it must be from the cold, though, as she was shivering desperately. She was wearing an expensive-looking lace-lined smock that you could only assume continued into a dress down below, and you wondered just how someone who was so obviously a lady had ended up falling in the fissure.

**There is something very off here.**

You had a feeling your friend was right.

“Oh, thank heavens!” the trapped woman cried at the sight of you, her eyes lighting up. “Could you help me, sir? I was walking, when I fell into this hole and now I’m trapped between these rocks.”

You had been bending down to offer a hand to the woman despite your misgivings about the situation, when you paused at her words, settling into a crouch. Your hands fell between your knees as your eyebrows drew together. Walking…?

**In this rain?**

Exactly.

“I’m sorry, madam, did you say you were _walking_?” you asked, not bothering with your disguised voice, even though she had assumed you were a man. You didn’t think it was necessary when there were only women present. You only needed it to give yourself an edge against the scoundrel men who would prey on a woman without a second thought. “Isn’t it awfully poor weather to be taking a stroll?”

You saw the pale girl beside you shift, and you knew she must be feeling foolish for being out, as well, especially as she was only in a night dress. Without taking your eyes off of the trapped woman, you shrugged out of your duster and held it up to the girl. She took it with a whispered thanks and you saw her shrug it on out of the corner of your eye. The whole time, the trapped woman’s eyes had been narrowing as she watched your exchange. They were nearly slits as she said,

“Wait, you’re not a man.”

You smiled, not unkindly. “I’m certainly not.”

“But you’re dressed like a man.”

**Somehow I’m doubting she’s really in as much peril as she appears to be.**

“Is that a problem?” you asked, gesturing lazily with your dangling hands. “Were you perhaps looking for a prince to save you, my lady? Because if you’d prefer someone a bit more royal to pull you from that hole, I could go try to find one.”

“No, no!” the woman cried hastily, shaking her head with a sudden simpering closed-mouth smile. “No, that won’t be necessary. I just thought it might be a bit difficult for one small woman to pull me free. Perhaps if you both were to help me, though…?”

**Not a bloody chance.**

“Oh, I’m sure I can manage it by myself,” you said with a smile of your own. You were pleased to see the girl had taken a step back from the crack, seemingly aware of your unspoken warning.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the woman responded immediately, her face falling into a slight scowl. She was clearly struggling to appear friendly still, though, as she plastered another wide smile on. “You should get help from your friend. I would feel absolutely terrible if you were to fall in here with me.”

Your smile turned wry. “I’ll bet.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed again, and she began to make strange fidgeting motions that you knew wouldn’t be possible if she were really hanging from a ledge. She noticed you looking and her face twisted in an ugly frown. “What is that supposed to mean? Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you just about as far as I could throw you, madam.”

The pale girl took another step back when you held out an arm to warn her. The trapped woman made a low growl in her throat. “Fine, it doesn’t matter if you believe me—just get me out of here!”

**She’s desperate.**

You cocked your head slightly before clapping your hands on your knees and standing back up, peering down at the eerie woman with a wide smile. “I’m afraid I don’t want to. It’s simply beastly weather out here, and I need to get this girl back in a warm bed. All the best, though. Goodbye!”

You turned to the pale girl and gestured for her to take the lead, glad to see she was keeping at least slightly drier in your coat. You, however, were fully soaked now.

“Alright, dearie…” you heard from behind you. The high, wavering giggle that followed sent shivers down your spine. “If you want to do it this way, then I’d love to play…”

The hair on your neck stood as your skin prickled with sudden dread. You saw the girl beside you mirroring you as you looked over your shoulder slowly, slowly, as a scritching, clawing, whispery sound came from behind you, and over it all, the giggles of the woman. What you saw made your stomach heave with pure, uninhibited terror.

First, there was nothing—only the barest hint of the fissure in the earth was still visible from your angle. Then…a hand. And another.

And then…a leg.

Long, impossibly thick, and covered in dark, bristly hair. _Pointed at the foot._

Not human.

The woman’s face inched over the edge of the chasm, her eyes wide and bright with dreadful amusement, her smile toothy and stretching from ear-to-ear.

Another leg.

The woman’s torso, twisting unnaturally until she was bent at the waist, flopping down onto the earth. Back arching, she braced herself by her hands so that she was still watching you with those horrible, horrible eyes, upside-down now.

_Another leg._

And _another._

 _Another, another_!

Your throat dry and your body shuddering with gut-wrenching fear, you watched the legs all flex and wriggle something free down below.

A large, bulbous sac-like bit of flesh emerged, covered in the same bristly hair as the legs.

Your mind stuttered, recalling the name with shrieking horror.

Abdomen—spinneret—

 _Spider_!

The woman licked her lips with a long, dripping tongue and wailed,

“Time to play, my pets!”

A long, low moan came from your throat as you tried to comprehend the figure in front of you. Spider. Giant. Big enough to chase you down. Big enough to catch you in its legs.

_Big enough to eat you!_

As the woman-spider stalked closer, her human-shaped torso hanging backwards from where the body of the spider should be, she seemed to enjoy the absolute terror that held you in place. You heard the pale girl squeaking and begging you as she tugged on your hand,

“Please, we must run—please!”

But still you were frozen, your legs shaking and threatening to collapse. The woman-spider had almost reached you, now, her teeth clicking together as her hands reached for you, clapping with joy.

“Yes, dearie, be a good girl and stay still! Oh, what a good little girl you are!” A wailing giggle.

You felt warmth trickle from between your thighs, mingling with the cold rain already soaked through your trousers.

**Run, for the love of God, _RUN_!**

You felt your friend’s ghostly hand clamp around your heart and squeeze once—just enough to startle you into action. Your legs unstuck and you stumbled away from the spider creature’s grasp, a high, long whine emitting from you as you grabbed onto the pale girl’s hand and fell into a clumsy, stunted retreat.

“What is that thing?!” the pale girl cried as you crashed through the trees, trying to keep between the narrow spaces in them as you heard the spider woman’s pursuit. She was screeching with delighted laughter, seemingly enjoying the chase as you kept looking over your shoulder to see how close she was.

She was close enough to see the whites of her eyes—her _multiple eyes_ —as they all opened wide. Every single one was focused on you as she stretched forward, saliva dripping from her sharp teeth.

**Don’t look, just keep running!**

You obeyed with a loud whimper, hating to take your eyes off of the spider when she was so close that you could hear the skittering of her bristly legs against the trees. You _couldn’t_ disobey—your heart was slamming against your ribs, your breath screaming through your lungs as you struggled to even think. You were faint with adrenaline and fear, and you just knew you were going to trip and fall any second, any _second_ you were going to _die,_ and the only thing keeping you from losing it completely was the grip on your hand and the urging from your friend, because otherwise you would crumple and just give in, just give _up_ because how could you possibly escape this, how could you survive the clutches of a monster so horrific—

“Just a _little further_ , my sweet little morsel, and you’ll—be— _mine_!”

You felt fingertips brush against your shoulders. 

You screamed and dove forward, dragging the girl down with you as the spider woman skittered over your heads, her legs scrabbling for purchase in the mud as she shrieked with frustration. The pale girl was crying, now, whimpering out the Lord’s Prayer deliriously as though it was the only thing keeping her from fainting. You could understand, but you had no such luxury—you had to keep it together enough to save both of your lives. 

Slipping in the mud as you rose back to your feet, you tugged the girl up beside you and changed direction, heading for the only place you could think where you might have a chance of survival: the hole. You knew you couldn’t outrun the pace of the gigantic spider woman, but with the brothers’ help, you might be able to get to safety.

As you slammed painfully against the overhanging branches to keep the girl safe from harm, you spotted a figure up ahead, one that sent a bolt of anger through you.

Zach.

“Frisk, what is wrong?” he called hastily.

“Run, you _fool_!” you screamed, pleased that he at least seemed to understand the desperation of the situation when he immediately fell into a sprint beside you. Another shriek of laughter pierced the sound of your own galloping heartbeat and the gasps of fright from the three of you as you ran for your lives.

You heard the creature pursuing you again, quickly reducing the head start you’d given the three of you until she had nearly caught up once more. You thought quickly, many ideas springing forth, including wondering if you should relinquish control to your friend.

**Do _not_ give over control! There is nothing I can do with so little time! Just focus on running!**

You groaned, your vision wavering with panic as your back-up plan was rejected. Fine, it looked like you would have to be the one to fall on the knife to save the others.

You yanked the pale girl forward gently enough to not cause her to fall, but enough to draw her level with Zach. You released her and shouted over at both of them, “Go! Get to the Home! I’ll distract her!”

Zach tried to protest, but the girl cut him off with a curt, “Got it! Please don’t die!” and took his hand, skidding to a near stop before yanking him off in the direction of the Home, both of them almost falling in their hasty descent.

You saw the spider woman briefly hesitate, looking between your two parties, before you called out to her wordlessly, and her eyes rolled to focus on you once more.

**This is insanity. This is suicide. You should have stayed with them! They would have given the beast more targets!**

Your heartbeat nearly drowned out your friend’s ramblings as you pointed yourself in the direction of the hole, straining to keep up the intense pace. You were both much less and much more terrified now that you were alone—on one hand, you didn’t have to worry about the two others falling and getting snatched by the beast, but on the other hand, now _you_ were its sole prey.

And you were nearly out of energy.

When you began stumbling and making near-deadly mistakes, and you could practically feel the woman’s acrid breath fanning across your neck, you began screaming for help. You screamed wordlessly at first, which only made the beast laugh high and loud, her fingers grasping at your hair and arms, slipping but getting closer and closer to finding purchase.

“ _Papyrus_!” you cried then, terror lancing through your words and giving it a desperation you had never heard in yourself. “ _Saaans!_ ”

A confused, high grunt. The thumping, groaning sound of many legs tripping over themselves and crashing against the trees.

You lost your footing, your arms reaching out for safety as you fell, knowing you had lost the chase. You were surely going to die now, torn apart by the monster woman’s razor teeth.

But then—

Two figures in the distance, familiar and welcome enough to make you drag in a grateful breath. But still, you knew they were much too far away to help you. You closed your eyes and buried your head in your arms, curling up into the foetal position unconsciously, trembling and sobbing breathlessly. You didn’t want to see the end coming. You didn’t want to know what Death looked like as it ripped your soul from your body. You keened softly with fear. 

**It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here—I’m here with you. Shh, shh, I won’t let it hurt.**

Just as your body was flooded with a physically numb, yet euphoric sensation, you heard a crash overhead and a loud, wet thump.

Shrieking rage.

Inhuman cries of pain.

Large, sharp hands tore at you, lifting you high in the air as you kicked and struggled instinctively, still not opening your eyes.

And then you were falling.

You screamed, your eyes flying open to the nothing that surrounded you, air ripping from your lungs as your eyes opened painfully wide, feeling as though they would burst.

A single moment later, it was over.

You were dropped to the wet ground, your feet and legs collapsing under you as you thumped hard onto your bottom. You looked up to see Sans and Papyrus standing over you, the latter looking incredibly upset.

“H-human—F-F-Frisk, are y-you okay?” Papyrus stuttered, swooping down and taking you in his arms, folding himself around you. He spoke against your ear as the rain battered against your upturned face, your eyes on Sans. He was looking somehow angry and guilty at once, and his eyes turned away from yours, up and to the side. “I-I-I’m ssso sssorry, I h-had n-no idea sh-she would be huntiiing already!”

**…Already?**

Your friend’s growling response sent chills through you, the numbness trickling back out of you. You pushed Papyrus away without a thought, struggling to your feet and looking around wildly. You were at the base of the mountain, just within the boundary of the trees before the path to the Home. “What happened? How did we get down here?” you demanded of the brothers, your voice rough and raw. You thought of the girl and Zachary, and the spider creature whom you had apparently left behind, somehow. “No—I can’t be down here! The others—they’ll die without me to distract the beast! I have to go back and save them!”

Sans put out a heavy arm to stop you from striding past him, catching you in the gut and hauling you back. Before you could snarl at him, he silently pointed over your shoulder, and you turned to see two figures stumbling from the forest, hand-in-hand. They seemed to catch sight of you after a few moments, as they stopped dead, before Zach began in your direction with purpose. The pale girl hauled on his arm, though, spinning him around so she could gesture emphatically towards the Home. Zach looked torn, his head looking between you and the Home, before he let himself be led away.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Friends of yours?”

You watched the two of them stumble their way through the gates of the Home as Sans spoke, the guards catching them up and taking them inside the building without a glance in your direction. That was good. You didn’t particularly want any rifles pulled on the brothers just because they had had to save you. Then again, it was much too stormy to see much of anything, and even if they wanted to shoot the monsters, they probably wouldn’t be able to get a good shot at them from within the trees.

Trembling with the effort it took to keep yourself standing after so much adrenaline and pain of running for your life for so long, you ran a hand against your hair. It was plastered to your skull, just as your clothes clung to your body, making you feel sick and tired. You only wanted to climb into a bath and then close your eyes for several weeks, if only to forget the sight of the monstrosity you’d narrowly escaped from.

Speaking of.

“Are we safe here?” you asked, your voice cracking somewhat. Your throat was raw from all your screaming. You turned your eyes to Sans and Papyrus, who were both staring down at you with varying degrees of concern. Papyrus looked as though he wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms. You could tell by the way he fidgeted, his hands flexing and falling by his side before twitching towards you. You were in no mood to encourage him. “Will she come find us?”

“No,” Sans responded immediately, his eyes falling into slits. “She’s not stupid enough to try to take a human from us.”

**Then why were you attacked in the first place?**

Your hands clenched as you nodded in response to Sans, looking away to the Home. You tried to school your voice into one that wasn’t quite as harsh as you were feeling inside, but you weren’t sure of how successful you were. “Is _she_ a friend of _yours_?” you choked out, your jaw tight with something past annoyance, but not quite anger.

“F-Frisk, no,” Papyrus said, sounding as though he was pleading with you to not be angry. It did nothing to ease the fire building within you. He slinked up to you, his head bowed to meet your eyes. “P-please, don’t be angry. If—if I’d known she w-would be out hunting already, I’d—I would have—”

“You would have _what_ , Papyrus?” you bit back, looking into his eyes, noticing how small and weak they glowed. “Would have thrown those two to that monster to save me? Would have _helped_ her capture the girl for your master? Would have protected your _precious human_ from nearly being _eaten alive_?”

Behind Papyrus, you saw Sans’s eyes darken. You didn’t care; you were working yourself into an indignant fury. You had nearly died _twice_ in the span of a couple of hours because of the damned mountain and its inhabitants, and you were _tired_ of all the mystery. You didn’t want to be special, or different, especially if it meant that others would be ignored in favour of you. You just wanted to keep everyone in the Home safe, yourself included.

“N-no, no, no, _no_ ,” Papyrus ranted, shaking his head as he tried to take your shoulders in his hands. You flinched back, and he looked devastated; lost. “N-no, it is-isn’t like that anymore, Frisk,” he rasped, his eyes pulsing weakly. He sounded so _sincere_ , and it only made you angrier. 

“No, this is all going ssso wrong!” He cried suddenly, spinning away for a moment, his hands going to his head as he shook it violently. “It wasssn’t s-supposed to happen like this! W-why did she have to start _early_?” The last word was shrieked with frustration, the sound causing you to blanch. 

“All I wanted to do was come see you and show you how much I care about you!” Papyrus bent over himself, his bones trembling softly before he stood straight again, turning to you with pleading eyes. “I just wanted to show you how special you are.” He spoke as if he was defeated, but then he reached inside a sack he had hanging from his shoulder. You watched him suspiciously, but your heart clenched when he pulled out a small handful of golden flowers. He looked down at them despondently before holding them out, his eyes meeting yours softly. “I just wanted to say how much I like you. I’m sorry Muffet ruined our date. Please accept these as an apology,” he said, then after a brief, awkward moment, stammered out, “A-and as a token of my affection!”

As you took the flowers from Papyrus’s hand, your own hand moving to grasp them with little direction from yourself, you felt something in you snap.

**Try to stay calm.**

Your heart was igniting from within, getting rapidly consumed by the anger that had been building at his words. You stared down at the golden-petaled flowers in your hand as the bright green stems were slowly crushed in your palm, bending at odd angles with the force of your clenching fist. You were barely breathing with the strength of the fire in you, raging higher and higher the more Papyrus’s words circled in your mind.

He knew the spider creature by _name_.

He’d _known_ the woman would attack.

He’d _known_ she would try to kidnap the girl.

It had just been _early_.

So it had ruined your _date_.

But that was okay.

He’d given you _flowers_ to make up for it.

Because you were _special_.

Because he _liked_ you.

So that made up for it, right?

Sure…

…that girl could have died.

…Zachary could have died.

… _you_ had almost died. Twice.

But these flowers…

…with the smell of them, sickly-sweet and pungent, crawling up through your nose and mouth and invading your lungs…

…the _same smell as the mountain_ …

…they made up for it.

Right?

**Frisk, please don’t be rash. He obviously didn’t mean any harm by it. Look at him.**

You were already looking at him.

He was smiling.

Sans wasn’t.

You tried to take a breath to calm yourself, closing your eyes against the hopeful look in Papyrus’s eyes. It only seemed to fan the flames.

“F-Frisk?”

Your eyes flew open at Papyrus’s nervous stutter, and you had to really work to keep the anger inside. You cleared your throat, your jaw clenching painfully. “Papyrus,” you rasped, turning away. “Go home.”

You were glad you couldn’t see his face when you heard the small, pained whine that came from him. 

“Do…do you not like the flowers?” He gave another soft whine. “B-because if you don’t, I-I can b-bring y-you something else. If you—if you want, I mean. If…if you…”

Your heart clenched, but you had already made up your mind. You opened your eyes. You knew you had to face him when you said what you had to say. You owed him that, at least, for saving your life.

“Papyrus.”

He took a step back when you spoke his name, shaking his head. “N-no, Frisk, please, d-don’t be angry with me. J-just please…if…if you don’t l-like the flowersss…please, tell me what I can get for you.” His voice rose in pitch as he spoke, and you could barely see his eyes anymore, with how weak they shone. “Please.”

“There isn’t anything I want,” you spoke tersely. “Because I don’t want anything from you. I couldn’t accept anything from someone who’s willing to let others die or be tortured just so _they_ can be happy.”

Papyrus shook his head again, taking another step back.

Sans watched you, as still as the dead.

“I can’t be friends with someone who would do that.”

**Frisk, don’t!**

You tossed the flowers to the ground, their stems broken.

“I can’t be friends with a _monster_.”

Papyrus make a soft, barely audible choking sound, his eyes on the flowers between you. The sheer heartbreak in his expression gave you slight pause, but the fire rampaging through you quickly consumed any doubt that arose. You weren’t going to back down. You were right about this. It was for the best.

Without a word, or even another look in your direction, Papyrus turned and ran back into the forest, leaping into the trees and bounding away out of your sight in only a few moments.

You were trembling, your eyes on where he had disappeared.

You didn’t even realise that Sans was still standing there, his eyes burning into you, until he spoke. The deep, echoing, resonant quality to his voice took you slightly off guard, but his words were what chilled you to the bone.

“You just fucked yourself, human.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Sans is angry.
> 
> Also, I'm sure you all are too now! Heh...heh...please don't hate me.
> 
> Mama love tumblr...Papa love tumblr... -dances away, humming- tellcosy.tumblr.com


	16. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear and Anger bring out the worst in us all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading my weird words. Makes me seriously happy to see you enjoying it. <3
> 
> Saying that, HAVE FIVE THOUSAND WORDS OF PEOPLE SHOUTING AT EACH OTHER.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“You have exactly ten seconds to explain yourself before I start breaking bones.”

**You bloody idiot.**

Your heart was racing, your eyes flickering between the pure, palpable rage coming from Sans’s gaze, and the spot where Papyrus had disappeared.

“Ten.”

**Give me control!**

You wouldn’t.

“Nine.”

**Give it to me _now_!**

You _wouldn’t_.

“Eight.”

**Frisk, if you don’t give me control, I’ll _take it_.**

You were trembling uncontrollably now, your eyes caught on the forest as you felt your friend’s ghostly presence drifting across your heart. _No_.

“Seven.”

**Then _say something,_ you bloody IDIOT.**

You didn’t know what to say.

“Six.”

**It doesn’t matter what! Just say anything!**

You couldn’t. You couldn’t think of a single word.

“Five.”

**Frisk, you got yourself into this mess with that mouth of yours, now say something to the fucking creature about to rip you apart!**

“Four.”

What could you say? You couldn’t think of anything good enough. Sorry wasn’t good enough. You couldn’t think of what would save your life.

“Three.”

No, that wasn’t fair! That wasn’t a full second!

**I don’t think he’s particularly concerned with _fair_ right now!**

“Two.”

**Say _something—anything—_ JUST SPEAK!**

Your mouth opened, but only a croak emerged. You couldn’t look away from Sans. Raindrops curled and dripped down his skull, interrupting the intensity of his eyes. You thought it looked like tears.

“One.”

He was closing the gap now, one step, two steps, three steps, and he was there. You had to lean your head back to keep your eyes locked in his, though you had little control over yourself. It wasn’t like you could _not_ look at him. His presence was so overwhelmingly commanding that he could tell you to break your own bones and you would probably do it without question. This close, you were surrounded by his scent of old, worn leather, animal fat and that same dusty, hot smell that had been on Papyrus. It was like putting your face over an old oil lantern and feeling the burn of the fire against your skin.

“Time’s up.”

**Shit.**

His whisper was the only warning he gave you before he snatched you up by the front of your shirt and waistcoat, poking holes through the fabric with his clawed fingers as he lifted you off your feet. Your legs dangled uselessly as you pointed your toes to try to touch back down to earth, to no avail. He had lifted you high enough to be level with his eyes, which brought you at least a foot from the ground. The tips of his fingers were digging into your breast and the delicate skin at your sternum, taking your breath away with the sudden pain.

**No, it’s okay, just tell him you’re sorry, just explain to him that you didn’t mean it—**

“It’s a shame that you turned out bad,” Sans spoke softly as you clawed at his hand, kicking your legs. He smiled, and your eyes were drawn to his mouth, your heart hammering at the sight of his deadly teeth, sharp and ugly. You could vividly imagine what they would feel like tearing into your neck and ripping your flesh away. “Papyrus really liked you, you know? Thought there was a real connection between you.” He somehow made a ‘tch’ sound without a tongue. “Oh well. He’ll find another pet.”

**Frisk, say you’re sorry!**

You shook your head, your throat closing up against the pressure building from your friend’s ghostly presence. You could tell they were trying to force the words from your mouth. You refused.

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll tell him you said you were sorry.”

You stilled. Your heart clenched, then beat hard— _hard_ — _thump-thump_! _thump-thump_! Your nostrils flared. Rain slipped through your eyelashes as you opened your eyes wide, your brow lowered.

Sans’s other hand slipped around your neck.

Your body flushed.

You clenched your teeth as he clamped down on your windpipe, soft at first, but then harder…and harder.

 _Thump-thump_! _Thump-THUMP_!

**_Say you’re sorry!_ **

Your eyes burned into Sans’s, and you gasped, saliva slipping from the side of your mouth as you struggled to unclench your jaw.

“I—I—” you coughed, kicking wildly.

Sans’s eyes pulsed, his brows twitching slightly.

You pushed your friend’s panicked presence away, pulling in the biggest gulp of air you could.

“I’m not sorry.”

**Frisk, no!**

As soon as the words fell from your mouth, bitter and enraged, Sans’s hand stilled. His eyes went wide, full of disbelief.

“What?” he asked softly, the word barely audible.

“ _I’m. Not. Sorry,_ ” you bit out, fully able to breathe through the loose hold Sans had on your throat.

**Do you _want_ to die?!**

Sans’s hand loosened even further, and you tumbled back to the ground from the force of your own weight. You landed with a squelch, stumbling slightly but still upright. When you had your footing, you stood up to your fullest height, hands clenched and shaking. Heat was travelling through your entire body in waves. You pressed closer to Sans, barely noticing the way he took a step back, you were so furious. 

“ _I’M NOT SORRY!_ ” you roared from the pit of your stomach, the heat reaching your heart once more, burning high and consuming you. You reached out and pushed the flats of your palms against Sans’s chest, thrusting at him with all of your weight. He stumbled backward a couple of steps, but you knew that was likely due to the surprise in his eyes more than your strength. “So why don’t you go back to your horrible pit and tell Papyrus _that_ and then you can both leave me alone!”

**Frisk, what is _wrong_ with you? Why are you acting like this?**

“Just _shut up_!” you screamed, burying your hands in your rain-slick hair and tearing at it hard. “I don’t want to hear you anymore!”

**What—**

“I didn’t _say_ anything—”

“Both of you _shut up_!” You were taking great, heaving breaths, the tightness at your throat relieved by the heat rushing through you. You broke out in pacing, your eyes flicking between the Home, Sans, and the forest. You were restless. Uneasy. Irritable.  _Angry_.

**Are you ill? I don’t—I don’t feel any illness in you, but—**

“This is all _your_ fault,” you blurted, eyes boring into Sans’s. His surprise had disappeared almost as fast as it had come. He was visibly angry now, his face mirroring your emotions. You stalked close to him and he stood his ground, glaring down at you. “I’m not the one who’s been forcing themselves into the other’s life! I’m not the one who thinks it’s okay to force a “friend” into situations they are obviously not ready for, _while at their most vulnerable_! I’m not the one who thinks it’s okay to say that one person is special and deserves to be protected from harm—or kidnapping—or torture—o-or being _bred_ like _cattle_ , for the love of _God_ —simply because I want them for myself!” You took several breaths, your face burning with the passion behind your words. Before Sans could respond, you cut in with, 

“Never mind if that person cares for anyone else and doesn’t want to see them hurt either! Never mind if she never asked for that friendship in the first place! Never mind if she’s just trying to do what’s best for everyone and doesn’t know how to deal with everything that’s been piled onto her shoulders. Never…” you paused, your shoulders heaving with your hard, fast panting. You hiccoughed, shaking violently. “If you and your bloody brother hadn’t forced your way into my life and tried to act like bloody _romantics_ , I wouldn’t have had to break Papyrus’s heart like that!” You were panting softly now, between parted lips.

**Please, _calm down_.**

There was a brief moment of silence, with only the sound of the rain beating down to the earth and your own ragged breaths between you. You were both locked in each other’s eyes, and you would be damned if you were going to look away first.

“Are you finished?” Sans deadpanned at you, after several tense seconds. You didn’t respond, and he seemed to take that as an affirmative. “Good. Because that’s bullshit. You’re just being a hypocritical, condescending, spoiled brat.” You were taken aback slightly by the measured tone of his voice, as though he were wholly unimpressed with your outburst. 

Your hands balled into fists, and you got the image of smashing one right into Sans’s temple. You felt your friend slip their presence down into your arms, and hold you in warning. They weren’t trying to take control, and so you felt none of the usual bodily complaints, but you were still angry that they would take Sans’s side in the argument.

**I’m not taking _sides_ , you dolt! I don’t want you to get hurt, and you’re acting like a lunatic.**

“How _dare_ you call _me_ condescending, when all you’ve done thus far is treat me like a child who should be kept ignorant of everything?” you retorted, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“And look at how you’ve proven us wrong,” Sans sneered, holding his hands out in something like a shrug. He was smiling bitterly. “You’ve really shown your ability to handle unwelcome information with grace and aplomb.” He leaned down into your personal space, and you were annoyed to find yourself leaning away. His smile grew. “And if you want to bring up the topic of withholding information, let’s talk about all the things that _you’ve_ skirted around, hm?”

“That’s different!” you cried, shaking your head. “Anything that I’ve held back from telling you is completely harmless to you and Papyrus.”

“I beg to differ,” Sans responded without missing a beat. “Anything you think is important enough to lie to us about is probably dangerous. Because _whatever_ is going on up here,” he said softly, reaching a hand out and tapping you on the forehead with the very tip of his finger. “Isn’t normal.”

You found your breath hitching slightly at his words. How did he know? How had he figured it out?

**He hasn’t. He’s just trying to get you to admit to it out of fear.**

“I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re saying.”

Sans laughed softly, menacingly. “I never said _you_ were.”

**Or maybe he knows more than we think.**

There was a pause while you tried to think of how to respond to Sans.

**Clever bastard.**

“I—” You were at a loss. He had somehow cornered you once again, and you had no choice but to simply back out. “I’m not allowed to talk about that.”

“Is that right?” Sans asked, standing straight again. His eyes were bright and sharp, and you had the feeling you weren’t going to like what he had to say. “That’s funny you should say that. Because Papyrus and I have told _you_ so much more than _we_ were allowed to.”

You winced softly, then tried to cover it up with a stern look.

“That’s what I thought. You didn’t even think about that, did you?” His laugh rumbled low, somehow managing to sound disgusted. “You’re so hypocritical. You want us to tell you every little secret we have so _you_ can feel better—or safer—about the relationship, but when it comes to repaying the gesture, you refuse. You tell us we have to think about every human in the same way we do for you, and give them the same care, but you are allowed to make exceptions when _you_ don’t care about them.”

Sans shook his head, smirking. “Where was all your indignant rage when I was dragging men to their death? Was it missing because you _didn’t know them_? Do you think maybe that’s why _we_ don’t spare a thought about hurting _them_ , but now that we know you, we think you’re worth making an exception for? You talk about how Papyrus never considered your feelings or desire or comfort in his pursuit, but have you ever thought about what _he’s_ risking to be friends with _you_?”

“The difference is, I didn’t ask for that!” you argued angrily, cutting through the air with your hand. “I didn’t ask for _any_ of it, and expecting me to be happy with what I’m offered is unfair on me _and_ Papyrus.”

“If you didn’t want his friendship, then why did you tell him you did?” Sans growled suddenly, his bones cracking as he stood straight and stiff, his jacket whipping back in the sudden gust of wind. You shivered as it reminded you of just how sopping wet you were. The rain had died down quite a lot, but the wind was still howling against you two. You were being pushed around, but Sans didn’t even seem to notice. 

“I—” You didn’t know what to say. You were getting very flustered with all the very harsh, but accurate points he was making, and you couldn’t help but want to just run. You had your side to tell, of course, but you were getting the feeling that he wasn’t interested in hearing it. Not to mention that if you kept at this shouting match for much longer, the guards would surely notice that you had never returned with the girl, and tell the matron. “I was trying to—“

“Let me guess: you were trying to _manipulate_ him?” Sans snapped, and you flinched. “What did you think you would get from his friendship? From _mine_? Safety? A thrill?”

“I-I wasn’t trying to _get_ anything!” you said, your voice cracking. “I…I was…” A shudder ran through you, hard and sickening. Your stomach flopped. “I was _told_ to, okay? I was told to get closer to you two.”

There was absolute silence in the air and in your mind, as Sans and your friend went completely still. You swallowed heavily past the thick lump in your throat. You hoped your friend didn’t mind too much—you hadn’t exactly meant to say it, but you were feeling so unsure of yourself.

They didn’t respond.

“Incredible.” Sans looked unsurprised and tired, all in the same expression. “You’re even more of a hypocrite than I thought, if you think it’s okay for you to follow orders blindly while condemning us for the mere suggestion of it. Now, I can’t claim to be a free agent, but Papyrus certainly doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. He’s under nobody’s thrall. Everything he did was by himself.” He shook his head slowly. “All he ever wanted from you was friendship.”

You stood shaking and upset, staring up at Sans before you broke away, eyes cast to the ground. Your mind was whirling, angry and doubtful and embarrassed and chastised. You felt as though your friend had abandoned you again because of what you had said, despite not actually revealing anything about them. You felt exposed by Sans’s verbal assault, his words like deadly weapons that tore at your flimsy reasoning and excuses. He was right. You had treated Papyrus abominably, even though you had everyone’s best interests at heart. Yes, he had been incredibly insensitive and naïve to think that he could make up for it with a token gesture. But even your friend had felt that his heart was in the right place.

You knew you should have responded to him in a softer way. Found a way to explain to him why what he was doing was wrong, but that you understood that it came from a well-meaning place. But you hadn’t wanted to be the one to do it. It would be difficult, and frustrating, and you would never be able to find the right words to express your feelings. So you had gotten angry instead, and had hurt him just as he had hurt you with his thoughtlessness. 

You didn’t even know if you were qualified to speak on how he should have approached friendship with you, anymore, considering the double standards you had been employing.

But you thought you owed it to Papyrus to at least try.

And at the _very_ least, you wanted to apologise.

“Fine.”

The word choked out from between your lips, and you had to blink slowly, carefully, to relieve the burning at the back of your eyes. You looked back up to Sans, who was merely watching you with a neutral, mask-like expression.

“Fine. So I’m a bad person. I have flaws. Okay. I can accept that. I'm often bad at controlling myself and my emotions, especially when I don't know what someone wants from me.” Your voice was shaking as you spoke, and you hated it. The last thing you wanted was to show weakness to Sans. You knew he would only use it against you. You glanced away for a moment, your voice dropping into a soft, low murmur. “I don’t know what _you_ want from me.” Your eyes snapped back to Sans before he could respond, and your voice was much harder, though still it shook. “But I’m not going to let my flaws stop me from at least _trying_ to better myself. Because if you say that Papyrus shouldn’t be judged by his thoughtless actions alone, then neither should I.”

With that, you strode forward past Sans, your entire body trembling with barely restrained emotion as you headed for the mountain path. You swiped the lingering drops of rain from your face as an excuse to steady your hands. You tentatively reached out to your friend, asking if they were still upset with you.

**I’m here. I wasn’t upset, just…surprised. I’m sorry for leaving you. I need to think.**

“Wait,” Sans called after you, and you heard him stomping through the mud, each footstep squelching loudly. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You didn’t turn to look at him as you said, “To apologise to Papyrus.”

A loud growl came from him, then, and you were suddenly swung around by a hand on your shoulder. You gasped softly as you looked up into Sans’s bright, wide eyes. He gripped your shoulders in both of his hands, his weight bearing down on you just enough to let you know he was in control.

“You’re _not_ seeing my brother again, human. I thought I made it clear that you fucked up any chance of playing nice.”

You struggled to free yourself from his grip, but it was useless. He had you at his mercy. “That’s not fair!” you cried, your lip trembling softly. Dammit, you could feel the tears pressing against your eyes now. God damn it all, you _would not_ cry! “You can’t stand there and scold me for my behaviour and not give me the chance to make amends!”

“If I thought you were doing it for any other reason than to make _yourself_ feel better, I might consider it,” Sans said, scowling. The sight was incredibly intimidating coupled with his closeness. By the look in his eyes alone, you could imagine how much he wanted to hurt you just then. “But I don’t. So you won’t see him. You aren’t going to get the chance to hurt him again.”

“I—I’m not—” You were horrified to hear how thick your throat was as you spoke. You tried swallowing past the lump, but it only made you more aware of the unshed tears now pooling in your eyes. You looked away, ashamed and hot all over. “I don’t understand what you _want_ from me!” you protested, your voice hoarse and high. “I’m _trying_ to fix my mistakes. I’m trying to ask for forgiveness!”

“And I’m saying _you don’t deserve it_.” Sans growled low and rough. You bit your lip, closing your eyes to keep the clench of pain from showing on your face. A rough shake of your shoulders drew a gasp from you as Sans bit out, “Look at me!” Your eyes snapped open directly onto his, and your heart skipped a beat to see how close his face was. He was looming over you, his eyes pulsing hard and fast. You were surprised to find it matched your own heartbeat. “You want to know what I want from you?” He paused, but you didn’t respond. “Nothing. There is _nothing_ you can do to convince me that you’re not just another human, selfish and disgusting and horrible to everyone they see.”

“Then _why_ are you still here?” you cried, shaking your head fiercely. “If you’ll never believe how sincere I am about being sorry for what I did to Papyrus, then why are you here, listening to me say it?”

“Because I want you to admit it!” Sans practically shouted in your face, giving you another shake. “Admit that you’re no different to any other human! Admit that you thought you were being clever by convincing my brother you were his friend! Admit that you thought you could use him to get information and then break his heart when he got too close!”

His grip was becoming too hard, too rough. His fingers dug into the skin at your back and arms, having ripped more holes into your shirt. You were quivering, biting your lip hard enough to elicit a whine of pain. Your vision was watery and filled almost entirely by Sans, he was so close. He began speaking very low and fast, as though possessed.

“You’re all so predictable! Humans are always drawn in by the thrill of fear. You convince yourselves you’re smart enough to know when to pull away from the fire, that you won’t get burned if you just keep your distance. But you got too close, didn’t you? You saw that the risk of getting close to a monster wasn’t just a little burn on your fingers. It’s _death_. And that’s not fun for you, is it? Because you can’t convince yourself of how clever and cunning you are when you’re dead! 

“So you lashed out at Papyrus, because he’s the easy target—he’s _safe_. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew how much it would hurt _him_. And _you still did it_. And now you want to say sorry, because if you don’t, you might lose your special connection—your very own monster friend. Well, guess what, sweetheart? You want a monster?” 

With a rough shove, Sans had you pinned against a tree, the bark digging into your back. You winced, your legs braced between his, your hair dragging against the craggy bark as you bent to keep your eyes on his. He leaned even closer, and your breath hitched. 

“ _You got one._ ”

Your lips were parted in a surprised ‘o’ as your heart beat hard and fast, and an odd pressure built behind your ribcage, as though something wanted to spring forth. You had never seen Sans so heated before, so animated. He’d never spoken with such passion.

**Oh.**

“What’s wrong, human? Is this not what you wanted?”

You tensed.

“Well?”

You took a shuddering breath.

“ _Is it_?”

“ _No_!” you burst out as he pressed you too far, your tears spilling over onto your cheeks. You saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “No, it’s not what I wanted! None of this is!” You dragged in a painful breath. “You can keep asking me that a hundred times, and the answer will still be the same, Sans. I’m not happy, this isn’t what I wanted, I’m sorry—I’m sorry— _I’m sorry_!”

You strained against his firm grip, but he still held you in place, though his face was no longer so close. He had leaned away slightly at your outburst. “You want me to admit to something, Sans? Well how about this—I’m bloody _terrified_!” you cried, feeling like a huge weight was leaving you. “Because I _am_ drawn to you and Papyrus—and that bloody mountain— _constantly_. Day and night, no matter where I am! I’m pulled in like a moth to a flame! I nearly _died_ this morning because my body forgot it couldn’t fly in its rush to go to the mountain.”

You shuddered, remembering the feeling of hanging over empty air. “When I think about losing myself to this compulsion, it makes me want to cling to something—anything—because I need to know that _someone_ will save me from myself. Because God knows I can’t rely on my friend—they’re just as drawn to whatever is down there as I am!”

**What are you—**

“They think about it constantly,” you continued, ignoring the sound of your friend’s complaint. You were beyond rational, now. You were letting everything out—every bit of pain and worry you were feeling. “Always wondering— _obsessing_ —what could it be, what could it be—what could be so powerful to affect even them? So they turn to me, tell me to get close to you, tell me to find out what you know. But when I do, I’m in danger because you don’t trust me, or because Papyrus is too eager, or just because _humans_ _aren’t meant to be friends with monsters_!”

You took several deeps breaths, speaking through your teeth as you tried to stop the tears tracking down your face. “So I have to be _careful_ , must be less reckless, must protect myself somehow, while also getting _close_ to you. And it _scares_ me, Sans, because how am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to let myself get close to you when I know what you’re capable of? How can you blame me for acting as I have—trying to keep my distance—trying to keep everyone safe in the only way I know how—when the thought of getting close terrifies me?” You shook your head, drooping forward with exhaustion. “I’m so scared. I’m _so_ _scared_. And I have no idea what to do.”

You sat in the crushing silence, Sans’s hands helping keep you standing. Your legs were weak, your knees threatening to collapse. You had done it. You had practically given Sans every single one of your weaknesses on a platter. You had bared yourself to him, and you hadn’t even meant to. He simply…drew it from you. You felt your stomach throb with the sobs you swallowed, though soft whimpers still escaped from you.

You were surprised to feel your friend’s presence slide down around you, draping over the outside of your limbs and back as though they stood behind you, wrapping you in a hug. You shook with emotion, a loud, ugly sob wrenched from your gut. You closed your eyes tight. You were so afraid of what they were going to say to you.

**Are you really afraid of me?**

No.

…You didn’t know. You thought that you might be, if you thought deeply about it. 

**I didn't know.**

You hadn’t really known, either.

… **I’m so sorry.**

You sobbed again. 

And then strong, hard arms wrapped tentatively around you from the front, your head resting against an equally hard chest.

Sans was _holding_ you.

Your eyes flew open.

But you said nothing.

Instead, you listened.

Softly, from beneath the oddly comforting warmth of his chest, you thought you could hear a heartbeat.

Did he have a heart inside him?

You shivered at the thought of a human heart beating away inside his undead body. It was a gruesome image.

 

The softest laugh rumbled through Sans’s chest, echoing so unlike a human’s that you wanted to make him laugh again, just to study the difference.

“You want to hear a joke?”

**Is he serious?**

You were just as surprised as your friend.

But… “Yes, please.”

Sans leaned back just enough to look in your eyes. He was smiling ruefully. “I’m scared too.”

You stared for a moment before a laugh burst from between your sniffles. “What?” you asked, speaking softly because of your closeness. “What could you possibly be afraid of?”

“You.”

You were smiling and ready to laugh at the ridiculousness, but Sans’s serious expression threw you for a loop. He wasn’t joking? But…how? Why would he _possibly_ be scared of you?

You realised you’d asked the question out loud when Sans responded with a whispered, “Let’s just say I understand your feelings of…compulsion.”

You didn’t understand. Was he saying that he was drawn to the mountain, too? Was he saying that he was afraid of losing himself to—

Oh.

 _Oh_.

‘ **Oh’ is right.**

Your face flushed slowly, your eyes going wide. That same feeling of pressure behind your chest began again. Sans’s eyes were pulsing slower now, but just as hard. It definitely matched your own heartbeat.

“Ah…” you breathed, trying to think of something—anything—to say.

Sans seemed to snap out of his trance at that, closing his eyes and pulling back, letting his hands slide away from you. You were suddenly painfully aware of how warm he had been when the cold wind slammed into you. You shivered as he turned away—most likely to gather his own thoughts, if he had been as uncomfortable as you had been.

After a few moments, he stood straight once more, glancing over at you with an apologetic, almost sheepish smile. Your heart gave another hard clench. He reminded you of Papyrus when he smiled like that. “Sorry. Probably better if you just forget I said that.”

You blinked. “O-okay,” you said, though you weren’t sure at all that you wanted to.

**Oh, dear.**

“Listen. I’m—” he paused, and you both shifted awkwardly. You could guess that he was just as aware of the strange tension between you after all the heated words you’d exchanged. Suddenly aware of the tear tracks on your cheeks, you hastily scrubbed at your face, huffing out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t help the slight tug at the corners of your mouth. “You said that already.”

Sans nodded absently, his eyes turning to the forest. “It’s because I am. I didn’t—I didn’t want things to be like this, either. All I wanted was for Papyrus to be happy.” He glanced over at you. “And _you_ made him happy.”

Your heart gave a strange little leap at the same time as your stomach dropped. “Sans—”

“I know. You’re sorry.”

You watched him unhappily. “Will you at least let me tell him that, before I have to say goodbye?”

Sans was quiet for so long that you began to get anxious.

“It isn’t really my place to say whether or not you can,” he said finally, his voice flat.

Your eyebrows drew together.

“Then why did you—”

“I was angry at you.”

You growled. “Sans, are you trying to say that you were going to _kill_ me because you didn’t want to give your brother the chance to forgive me?”

Sans gave you another sheepish look. “I, uh…wouldn’t have killed you.” He gave a little thoughtful smile. “If I had, ‘Pyrus would’ve killed _me_.”

You couldn’t help the way your mind leapt on that bit of hope. “So, you—you think he will—” 

“Forgive you?”

You nodded, hoping you didn’t seem too eager.

“…Of course he will. Papyrus really likes you.” As your breath hitched with the bolt of happiness that shot through you, Sans continued, “He wouldn’t let something like this ruin your friendship. Even if I try to tell him to stop seeing you, he’ll probably just use it as an excuse to try harder.” He gave a soft laugh before glancing over again. “It was a pretty stupid move, you know, hurting your only ally. If it wasn’t for Papyrus, you’d be dead right now.”

You might have felt threatened by his words, if he hadn’t spoken in such a matter-of-fact way.

**Plus, he’s not wrong.**

“I know.”

Sans was quiet again for another few moments, before he sighed and turned to face you once again. “Look. I’ll talk to him. Let him know that you want to talk to him. And if he wants to talk to you, too…we’ll come to you.”

“Tonight?”

“I…wouldn’t bet on it.”

You nodded, heart sinking slightly. You could understand that. “Okay. I’ll look for you starting tomorrow, then.”

Sans nodded back at you, and without another word, started on the trail up to the mountain, his gait stiff and his shoulders hunched. You watched him for a few seconds before you called out to him,

“Sans!”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at you.

“Thank you.”

He was silent for a second before he gave a huff of laughter and continued up the path, shaking his head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: getting everyone on the same page.
> 
>  
> 
> Rollin' with the tumblrrrrs: tellcosy.tumblr.com


	17. Kindling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconnecting with your friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this has taken so long. I don't really have a reason other than self-doubt and writer's block. Hopefully it won't happen again!
> 
> This is part one of two of a chapter that was going just a little too long for what I had intended. So the other should be up tomorrow, as I've basically just cut it in half-ish. Hopefully it won't be too jarring.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading. I appreciate every one of you. Enjooooy! <3

 

 

**Why are we at the lake?**

You hitched your equipment higher, ducking your head against the fall of the rain. It pattered against your hat lightly, but steadily, unwilling to give up its claim on the sky. You stood on the shore of the wide, sprawling lake, its waters murky in the rain. Perfect. You untethered the small boat that was kept tied to the short dock, lowering your box and rod as you stepped in after. You shook off the droplets sliding down your mack, taking up the two stubby paddles. 

As you rowed towards the middle of the lake, you peered up at the sky. The moon was barely visible anymore, though it still shone through the clouds like a beacon of misery. Its blood-gorged face had dispersed a reddish tint through the stormy sky as it made its way across in the night, but now it was nearing the horizon. You had a few hours before you needed to go back and resume your watch duties.

You had gone back to the Home after your falling out with Sans to get yourself dry and clean, going to the matron to request this small break for yourself. She had agreed, but only after making sure you were well. Zachary and the girl—whose name turned out to be Iris— had informed her of what had happened on the mountain, and where you were. She had tried to get you to talk about it, saying that it did no good to bottle up, but you politely refused for the moment. You would tell her eventually.

But first, you needed to work through it yourself.

So you had toiled through the night, doing odd jobs while keeping an eye on the forest line and trying not to think about what had happened that day. You’d reckoned it was better to be on the ground floor and ready to run after any escapees than to be up in the ward itself helping the sisters. You still didn’t trust yourself to not wander off, even though the rain did help a bit with your urge. The water was soothing, and the rumble in the clouds reminded you of being a child, hiding in your mother’s lap. 

By the end of the night, you had been incredibly grateful to have stationed yourself where you had, as you’d managed to stop and wake up three escaped girls. None of them had known how they’d ended up downstairs, and all had seemed very happy to run back inside as soon as you’d suggested it.

It only reminded you of exactly why you needed to talk to Papyrus, and explain yourself. You deeply regretted the way you’d lost control over yourself, but you still weren’t sorry for expecting more from him. He was incredibly naïve for being so monstrous but that didn’t mean he couldn’t at least try to consider how you might be feeling, given the situation.

And the same went for you.

So to give yourself some time and space to sort your problems out, you had waited until the second guard joined the other before going to grab some equipment from the lockup. And now you were almost to the middle of the lake, where you would spend the last few hours before sunrise fishing. 

**Fishing?**

Fishing.

**There are monsters trying to snatch girls away and you’re going _fishing_?**

There were guards ready and able to stop the girls if needed.

**Those guards wouldn’t stand a chance if that spider monster decided to come pay a visit to the Home.**

Neither would you, really.

**Don’t be silly, I could handle her.**

Then why hadn’t they?

**…Because I didn’t have the chance.**

You thought about how long it had taken you to run up the mountain to find the girl.

**That isn’t fair. I couldn’t focus on bolstering you while you were already active.**

You thought about how quickly they had numbed you when it had become clear you were going to die.

**Well, of course I could do _that_ quickly, it’s just a deadening of your nerves!**

You thought about the fit you’d suffered when Papyrus had come to you after breaking your ribs.

**Oh.**

**…**

**You aren’t here to think about Papyrus, are you?**

No. You weren’t.

**Okay.**

There was silence.

Then a whisper.

**Whatever you need from me, I’ll do it.**

You stopped in the middle of baiting your hook, your fingers pausing over the sharp point. Your friend was never quite so readily penitent for anything, not especially when it came to something they’d done to you. You were used to them laughing away any complaint you had for their behaviour or treatment of you, if you ever even spoke up at all. For them to immediately offer apology in the form of absolute willingness…

Well. You would perhaps be a bit gentler with them than you might have otherwise been before.

**I’m not saying that to manipulate you, poppet. I’m being genuine. As painful as it is to even admit that.**

Well, you would be lying if you said that wasn’t an even bigger surprise. You had come to the lake ready for another argument, another falling out.

**You won’t get one from me.**

But why? Surely your friend thought they had done nothing wrong to you, as they usually did.

**I’m not quite as short-sighted as that. I am aware that I have been…less than justified in many of my decisions regarding you, as of late.**

Your mind provided you with a collection of bad memories, fresh and still hurtful. You were used to being at least a little subjugated by your friend—it was, after all, part of the nature of your relationship. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it most of the time. It gave you that sense of… _belonging_ that you craved. But there was a line that had been crossed, and you hadn’t even known it existed.

**I did warn you when I first introduced myself that it wouldn’t be easy, living with me.**

They had. You could still remember that night vividly—laying in your bed, falling into that space between awake and asleep that you had become acquainted with since losing your ability to slumber. Whispers pressing against your ear. Sneaking into your mind. Darkness settling over you like a soft, heavy duvet. Thin, miasmic tendrils slipping across your skin and over your face. Laughter. Sweet, loving caresses. The tendrils pushing between your lips, filling you until you couldn’t breathe. Choking. Groaning. Finally, gasping. Taking them inside you. Feeling them wriggle into the gaps. Settle in. Make you their home.

And then, they had told you that you were perfect. That you were worth more than how you had been treated. That if you wanted to, you could rule the world.

You had listened.

Then you told them you didn’t want to rule the world.

You just wanted a family again.

You wanted to be home.

There had been silence.

And then laughter.

Sweet, glorious, singing, shaking laughter.

You had lit up inside at the sound.

Your soul had trembled, and whimpered with joy.

And you’d known then.

No matter who or what this person was…

…you would follow them to the ends of the earth.

The silence had died after a few moments.

And then they had said…

… **I can be your home, little one.**

You had not hesitated a single moment, agreeing to be their permanent vessel for as long as they wanted you. Then you had talked, the whole night, about everything. About why they had chosen you (every woman, and occasionally a man in your family had been vessels at some point, whether or not they accepted them as you had), about what they wanted from you ( **only to be with you and show you where true happiness lies** ), and even what they were. That had been a trickier question for them to answer, as there was no word left to describe them. They had settled on calling themself an ‘Old One’ and telling you that they had seen the birth and death of empires, the rise and fall of humanity, and lived in the shadows, in the very soil of Earth itself, waiting for their time to return. 

You told them that sounded very romantic.

They had laughed again, and you had smiled.

At a point during the night when the conversation lulled, you could remember the feeling of them shifting inside you, and your body shaking with pain and distress. You had been so scared, then, but they had shushed and whispered and hummed you through the first fit of many that you would have because of your friend’s presence. They had been like a mother to you, or a lover, or a friend who would never leave your side. They had comforted you as you had your pet dog when it shook with fear of thunder. You had curled in a ball, and wept as they explained how the human body was so frail, so easily consumed by its own instincts that it was difficult for them to live with anyone for very long. They explained that it would not be easy for either of you, sharing one body, and that in times of stress, it might result in fits much worse than that.

They had offered to leave you, so that you could live your life without such struggle.

But you had refused to give up so easily on your new friend.

So you simply devised a system, based entirely on trust and faith in one another. You would freely give yourself over when they asked, and when you asked for it to be returned, they would comply, so long as it was safe. And if there was ever a need for you to give over control, you would not do so without warning, either.

They would catch you, and you them.

Your budding relationship grew firm, strong roots then, and it had only strengthened with time.

But then…with everything that had been happening since the hole had appeared…those roots had been loosened from the soil. You had been shaken by their manipulation of you. You had been hurt by their demands. Their obsession. Their pressure. Their thoughtlessness. You knew it was because of the moon’s influence. But it would still take some time for those roots to grow strong again.

**Would it help if I showered you with gifts?**

You smiled, your eyes cast to the bottom of the boat. No, despite your friend’s intense need to give and receive presents, it would not particularly mend your relationship.

You cast your line into the waters.

**There has to be something I can do.**

You settled in for a long wait, your booted feet sliding forward and bracing against the edges of the boat. The fish in this lake weren’t known for an easy catch. But it would be worth it.

**Frisk, tell me what I have to do.**

You shook your head once, your gaze moving out across the lake. What you wanted from them wasn’t easy to ask for. It simply wasn’t in their nature.

**Please.**

You sighed.

Respect. You just wanted respect.

Not empty promises, or gifts, or power.

Just the knowledge that if you told them you didn’t want to do something, they wouldn’t pressure or force you to do it.

Honesty.

No more manipulation.

You gave your fishing line a small tug as a hush fell over you and the world. Your eyes followed the line of a fish moving through the water, and you were impressed at its size. You’d never seen such a large fish in this lake. You watched the ripples it caused, trying not to think on what you had just revealed to your friend.

It was several minutes later that their small voice returned, uncharacteristically hesitant.

**Have I truly mistreated you so badly?**

You laughed softly, under your breath. Trust your friend to equate the request for openness as a scolding.

**Frisk…**

You shook your head again. It had little to do with the severity of their neglect. To you, it was more important to protect your bond against future missteps. 

**I suppose I can appreciate that. Though I wish it weren’t necessary.**

So did you. You knew the effort it would take on their part. But no relationship was perfect. They all took work. Even when you shared a body and mind with the other person.

**Hah…that’s certainly not a guarantee of compatibility. There are plenty of things _you_ do unconsciously that your conscious mind isn’t comfortable with.**

You thought about all the small things that you’d discovered about yourself through the years—quirks, habits, odd and slightly worrying arousals…

**It’s quite funny, actually.**

Not for you.

**Liar.**

Maybe it was a _little_ funny, thinking of how often you managed to offend or shame yourself.

**Now see, we’re already getting good at openness and honesty.**

You had never had an issue with it in the first place. _You_ weren’t steeped in shadows and subterfuge.

**If you need to believe that, I will not point out the obvious problems with your argument.**

You smiled.

**Speaking of obvious problems, why in the world _are_ you fishing? Couldn’t you have spoken to me somewhere that wasn’t quite so _grimy_?**

What was so bad about the lake? It wasn’t as though you were touching it, anyway. It was lovely and peaceful and quiet.

**So is a church.**

You snorted into a hand, thinking of yourself sitting in the Home’s chapel, praying to your friend. You were sure you would be engulfed in flames in a matter of seconds.

**Nonsense, the matron would never allow us to burn in the lord’s house. We would ruin her lovely new pews.**

You were laughing outright, now, the sound echoing across the water.

The conversation continued between you in much the same vein as you simply took your time to yourselves. You even managed to catch a few fish, and by the time the sun was peeking over the horizon, you were ready to be back. You began to row back to shore, head bowed slightly against the rainfall, the only sound your own soft breaths and the boat gliding through the water.

Halfway to your destination, though, you began to feel uneasy.

Your neck was prickling.

A shiver crawled across your body.

It felt like…you were being watched.

You spun around as soon as the thought sprung into life, searching the lakeshore for any sign of your watcher. 

But there was nothing.

**That’s odd.**

After another moment’s searching, you continued rowing, putting more strength into it than before. 

**You shouldn’t wear yourself out. Just in case.**

You were fine. You wouldn’t tire so easily.

There it was again.

That feeling of being watched.

You searched for any signs, but still, there was nothing. You were huffing with the strain of rowing so quickly, but you weren’t going to ease up until you were back on land. Being caught on the water while feeling so hunted made you ill.

Finally, you made it back to the dock, practically leaping out and slamming the rope back around the post before fleeing back to solid ground. Once your boots squelched against the muddy shore, you inspected your surroundings, tense and nervous.

No one.

But a loud splash from behind.

You whirled around just in time to see a fin disappear below the surface of the water, some yards away.

You took a deep breath, and exhaled.

Just a fish!

**I doubt the fish was watching you, somehow.**

Still, it was a relief that there was _something_ you could pinpoint. You’d been so on edge lately, knowing that danger could be around every corner. It was good to know that sometimes a splash was just a splash, and not another monster come to hurt you.

**I suppose.**

You still kept an eye on your surroundings as you trudged back to the Home, the fish you’d caught dangling together from where you’d tied them to your fishing box. They were a little heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle, even when your arms were sore from such emphatic rowing. You watched them swinging as you strode through the trees, slumping against the wind pushing you. It was somewhat hypnotic, and oddly soothing to look at their dead, glassy eyes.

**What are you going to do with those?**

You weren’t sure. You’d gone out to the lake with no intention but to speak to your friend about your troubles, but an idea was forming in your mind and steadily gaining ground. You were a little nervous about it, as you weren’t sure if you wanted to be the first to make such a gesture after what had happened. But then you felt like a fool for thinking such prideful thoughts. Of course you still wanted to talk through what they had done and make sure they knew why it was wrong. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t extend the olive branch.

**I’m lost. Are you going to be feeding _me_ the fish? Because I’m not sure how much blood you’ll get from those, even if there is three of them.**

You chuckled. No, you didn’t suppose there would be enough blood to satiate your friend. But that was just fine, as you weren’t thinking about a gift for them.

**_Oh_. You’re talking about the bone brothers.**

Not necessarily Sans. You didn’t think he was particularly interested in anything you could give him—

**I wouldn’t bet on _that_.**

—and even if he _was_ , you were more concerned with Papyrus at the moment. You had made a sort of shaky peace with Sans. You wanted to see if you could do the same with Papyrus.

**By giving him fish?**

You sighed. It did sound a bit silly when you thought of it like that. But you couldn’t think of anything better under such short notice.

**We could go hunting.**

No. You weren’t going anywhere near the forest at the foot of the mountains. The thought of that monster—what had they called her?

**Muffet.**

You nearly stopped dead at the reminder of the name. You choked out a single laugh. Muffet? Like the _nursery rhyme_? Oh, dear Lord, that was too much.

Did they think calling her that was _cute_?

**I imagine they had little to do with naming her.**

You would hope so!

 _Muffet_.

Hmnph.

You shook your head and hitched up your rod, trying to ignore the shivers rolling down your spine. You weren’t going to think about that monster. You weren’t going to think about her chasing after you, slamming through the forest with her horrible smile and her clapping hands and the lines of saliva dripping down her face as she reached for you, her spider body dancing with excitement—

You made a choking ‘tch’ sound in the back of your throat, shaking your head violently. No, no, _no_ , you _weren’t_ thinking about it! The brothers had said she wasn’t going to follow you, wasn’t going to try to capture you again. You hoped that was still true even though you had hurt Papyrus.

Oh, God, what if it wasn’t?

What if they’d decided you weren’t worth the effort, and told her you were fair game now?

Papyrus wouldn’t do that.

Would he?

You knew he was possessive and protective, you could already tell that just by the small collection of encounters you’d had with him. You got the feeling he would do anything for the friends he made, since he had so few. That he would take care of them.

But what if he’d decided you weren’t his friend anymore?

Would Muffet come find you here in the lake’s forest?

You’d seen Sans go hunting men far away. What was there stopping Muffet from doing the same to you?

Or to the other girls?

You found your pace increasing, your boots thudding along the path as you nearly broke out in a jog. You were getting very nervous. Very anxious.

**I don’t see why he would stop being your friend just because of that.**

_Really_? The words were nice to hear, but—honestly, you had been horrible to Papyrus. He had practically begged you not to be angry, to not react _just as you had_. If he decided you were too cruel to be friends with now, you would completely understand.

**If he does, then he doesn’t deserve your time anyway. Friendship hardly ever forms smoothly. There are often rough waters to navigate before understanding can take place.**

It was soothing to hear your friend say so, but all the same, you were ready to be back at the Home, where you could keep an eye on everyone. You were beginning to feel guilty for taking even that short break.

**You can’t push yourself so hard and still expect to be of any help to anyone. You nearly _died_ yesterday. Twice. You had a very harrowing experience. You can’t expect to come back from everything that’s happened so quickly.**

Of course you could. You would simply work harder. There were people relying on you, not only for security but real, actual safety. You were the only person who could fight back against these monsters.

You picked up your pace again, jogging lightly as you approached the edge of the forest. You could make out the Home in the distance. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you didn’t immediately see anything wrong, but you were still tense. You wanted to see the matron, now. Make sure nothing had happened while you were gone.

**Frisk.**

 

You slipped on wet grass for a moment, but righted yourself, nearly at a full run now. You could see the lights glowing softly from the kitchen windows, bodies silhouetted against them. They didn’t seem to be in distress. But maybe that was just because the kitchens were fairly out of the way? Maybe the monsters hadn’t found them yet.

**Frisk!**

You blinked, feeling your friend’s hand stroking along your heart. Your rising anxiety was stripped away in a flash, shadows numbing you. You felt a brief bolt of anger at how they had done so without asking you, but they cut you off with,

**I apologise for not asking permission, but you were working up to a panic over nothing. There are no monsters attacking the Home. They are safe.**

You frowned, slowing back down to a brisk walk. How could your friend possibly know that? For all they knew, people were _dying_ in there.

**Do you really believe that, or are you trying to justify your guilt for taking time to yourself to heal?**

Your lip slipped between your teeth, and you worried at it as you thought.

**There are no screams. No chaos. No cries for help. The Home is safe. You do not need to see enemies where there are none, simply because you want to believe the worst of yourself.**

You kicked at a clump of grass, itching to trace your pendants. You knew what they were saying was true. You just didn’t want to admit it.

**It’s okay to be scared for yourself, you know.**

You bit down onto your lip, the image of Muffet chasing you flashing across your mind’s eye. You didn’t _want_ to be afraid, though. You wanted to be strong, and reliable, and ready to protect the ones you loved.

**And you will be. But first, you need to see to yourself. They are not in immediate danger, and causing yourself unnecessary worry because you don’t want to admit that you need looking after too is…well, silly.**

You sighed.

They were right.

**Of course I am. Now let's get out of this disgusting weather.**

You laughed silently, your shoulders shaking as you headed to the kitchen entrance.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: reconnecting with the brothers.
> 
> As I've said, the next part will be up soon, and it will mark the end of Part One of the story. There won't be any breaks between sections, though, so don't worry about having to wait. It's just a thematic thing.
> 
> I lurk over at tellcosy.tumblr.com, lowing in my guttural baritone the night entire.


	18. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconnecting with the brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buhhh...aaaaargh...this took so long...they never stopped talking...send ice cream to help... <3
> 
> Seriously though, thank you guys for reading. x]
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

You entered the Home through the back door of the kitchen, taking a moment to shake the rain from your mack. You propped your fishing rod against the cupboards, nodding back at the wide-shouldered woman who coordinated the kitchen work. She raised her eyebrows at the fish you’d brought back, and you gave a little shrug and a smile.

“I just needed some time to think. Luck was on my side today, apparently.” You hauled up the fish and rested them on the countertop as you untied them. “If you want to use two of them, you can, but I need one of them for myself.”

The woman paused long enough in her bread kneading to give you a look. You smiled again. “I might try putting my hand to cooking again.”

“Dear Lord, spare my kitchen from your wrath,” the cook said in a dry, rasping voice that reminded you of fire crackling. “Any reason why you’re threatening to burn the entire Home down?”

You rolled your eyes at her ribbing. She had been present when you’d last attempted to ‘help out’ with the food preparation. Needless to say, it had ended in disaster, including a small amount of fire which had to be extinguished.

**If I remember right, it was more than a little fire. Didn’t they have to replace two of the cupboards?**

Bloody hell, you were never going to live it down. Even if the monsters ate all of you whole, the cook would likely still be teasing you about being more palatable than anything you could cook.

“I’m _trying_ to be considerate and make amends to someone I’ve wronged. They…he likes to eat,” you finished lamely, not knowing how else to describe Papyrus’s odd obsession with sharing a meal with you. You briefly wondered if it was a monster trait, considering Sans had also offered, even though he hadn’t meant it at the time.

“I’m sure ‘ _he’_ does,” the cook deadpanned, sprinkling flour over the perfectly rounded loaf and brushing off her hands into the sink’s basin. She dried her hands on her apron and sighed. “If you’d like some help, I might be able to spare a few minutes. When are you planning on having your meal?”

You held your hands palm-out. “No, no, I couldn’t ask for your help! You’ll be terribly busy with cooking for the girls, I know. Especially when they’re…when they’re not well enough to help.”

“When they’ve lost their damned minds, you mean.” The cook sighed when your face bloomed with colour. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you’re…” She gestured vaguely, two deeper spots of red joining her already-flushed face.

You cleared your throat. “I know. It’s okay,” you lied, incredibly uncomfortable with the conversation. You weren’t exactly ashamed of being thought mad—considering the chaotic nature of your friend—but it wasn’t nice having it brought up in such awkward terms. You weren’t happy with the girls being disrespected, either. It wasn’t their fault they were feeling so restless and distraught. The Calling made fools of all of you.

“No, no it isn’t okay,” the cook continued, shaking her head, her curly brown hair bouncing slightly against her round cheeks. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that about the patients. It’s just the damned Blood Cycle making me talk nonsense.” She gave a smile that was more of a grimace. “The matron would have my hide if she heard me talking like that.”

You returned the smile, though yours was genuine. “I’m afraid you’re probably right about that. She is fiercely protective of those girls.”

**Remind you of anyone?**

You ignored your friend’s quip and thumped one of the fish with your knuckle. “Anyway, I’d better get to work. If you could keep one of these aside for me, I’ll be down later to make my attempt. I would certainly appreciate your help, if you had any time to spare.”

The cook nodded absently, her head bobbing as she went to lift the fish into her arms. You gave a little wave and headed through into the Home proper, ducking past some sisters as they emerged from the chapel, having finished morning prayers.

For most of the morning, you did much the same as you had before, working with various people for a few hours before lunchtime came around and you decided to do a sweep of the entire grounds to make sure there wasn’t any obvious places for the girls to escape. You were stopped briefly by the matron just as you were headed out, and told that Iris was doing slightly better that morning, and that she was asking to see you. You promised to pay her a visit as soon as you had done your rounds. After another direct, questioning stare that you were sure would have gotten you to confess everything had you not been so resolute on keeping it to yourself, the matron left.

You exhaled softly before heading outside once more. You wanted badly to tell the matron everything that had happened and warn her about Muffet possibly coming to the Home, but at the same time, your common sense was warring with your protectiveness. You knew you would have to tell her after speaking to Sans and Papyrus, though. You owed it to her.

After all, there really wasn’t much difference between you and her. You both wanted nothing more than to keep your home safe from harm.

You rambled through the grounds, keeping one eye on the forest at all times while searching for signs of possible escape. You were glad to be keeping busy, as the day would have otherwise felt interminable. You kept watch on the clouded-over sun as it crept across the sky, apparently happy to take its time reaching the horizon.

**Are you nervous about tonight?**

You weren’t sure. You thought you might be, considering how you were on edge, but then you reminded yourself that they might not even show up. Sans hadn’t been able to say for certain that they would come.

**They will come. They are just as drawn to you as you are to them.**

You weren’t so sure about that either.

You pushed your nervous thoughts aside as you continued working, though, content to just focus on one thing at a time. You couldn’t do anything about Sans or Papyrus right now, so you decided not to dwell on it. When the time came to face them again, you would think about it then.

**If that’s what you want.**

It was. Because if you kept remembering the look on Papyrus’s face as you told him you couldn’t be friends, and how alternately furious and compassionate Sans had been, then you would never get your job done. You would simply find yourself back on the path to the hole, pulled toward the objects of your concern. You could already feel the desire coiling in your heart, making your legs tremble. You wouldn’t give in, though. You had told Sans you would give Papyrus time. And by God, you would keep your word.

**You seem pretty certain about that, even considering where we’ve ended up.**

You blinked, realising that you hadn’t been paying any attention to your surroundings as you strode across the grounds. You breathed out a tired sigh when you saw that you had been heading right for the path to the mountain, despite your intention. You hadn’t even noticed.

Oh.

The flowers were still there.

You stood right over the crumpled bundle of flowers that you had tossed to the ground the day before. You had almost trampled them. You stared down at them, your eyes focused on their broken stems and crushed petals. They looked so pathetic, laying there in the muddy grass.

You bent down, touching your fingertips to the flower stems to separate the bunch, your eyes scanning through them. There. There was one that had managed to survive with minimal damage, its stem bent slightly and all of its petals still intact. You picked up the golden flower and held it to your nose.

It still smelled faintly sweet.

You closed your eyes and smiled.

**Are you going to take it back?**

You thought for a moment, opening your eyes to peer down at the flower again. Should you take the flower and risk giving the impression to Papyrus that you accepted his affection? You didn’t know exactly what he wanted of you, and if you took the flower, he might assume you felt the same way he did. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

**Would it be giving him the wrong idea if he did think that, though?**

You traced the heart pendant through your shirt, your thumb sliding along the roughly-cut edges.

You weren’t sure.

Or…were you?

You couldn’t really say you were feeling _romantic_ towards Papyrus, which is what you thought he was most likely feeling. You didn’t think you could. He was a monster and you were a human. The two didn’t really seem…compatible.

**You seem to be making a good job of it, anyway, despite that.**

You didn’t know what your friend meant by that.

**I’ll bet you do.**

…Perhaps it was more accurate to say you didn’t _want_ to know what your friend meant by that.

**I can imagine so. And yet.**

You twirled the flower between your fingers gently, and smiled. No matter what either of you were feeling towards each other, you couldn’t just throw the flower away. It had survived such harsh treatment. It felt wrong to discard it callously.

You tucked it inside your mack’s inner pocket, where it rested near your heart.

You decided to head back inside, as you had already circled the compound twice and not found any sign of escape. Perhaps the sisters had been especially vigilant in their watch.

You dropped by Iris’s room after enquiring about where you might find her. She seemed in good health, though the dark circles under her eyes told you that she was still feeling the Call. She was happy to see you, asking after your own health and whether you had managed to get any sleep after such a nightmarish experience. 

You told her a half-truth, saying that you hadn’t been able to sleep because of thinking about Muffet chasing you and her. She merely nodded, her own eyes going dark and haunted. You wanted to comfort her, then, but you were afraid to overstep her boundaries. You knew some of the girls were sensitive to touch, and especially full-body contact, though you had no idea if Iris was one of them. You decided to be safe, and refrain. You told her it would be alright, instead— that you would be there to protect her—and were rewarded with a weak smile.

You sat with her in comfortable silence for a little while, before the sister watching over her came back in and told you there was someone waiting to see you in your room.

Your heart pounded.

How—who—surely it couldn’t be Sans and Papyrus. They would never let themselves be seen by someone in the Home, let alone _speak_ to them. And yet, your heart still raced as you said goodbye to Iris, telling her you would come visit again tomorrow. You headed downstairs to your room, swinging by the dining hall to grab a cup of water for your flower as you tried to ignore the warmth that spread through you, starting at your cheeks.

As you walked down the corridor that led to your room, your heart leapt into your throat and you had to stop to take several deep breaths. What if it was Sans and Papyrus? What would you say to them? How could you talk to them without it devolving into another argument? You didn’t want to have another verbal brawl. You just wanted to show them that you were serious about how unfair their treatment of other humans was. 

**Don’t be nervous. It probably isn’t them anyway.**

You took another breath, calming down slightly. Your friend was right. There was no reason why Sans or Papyrus would put themselves at risk like that.

Still, you couldn’t help the hope in your heart as you turned the corner of your open doorway.

Oh.

It wasn’t Sans or Papyrus.

It was—

“Zach.” 

**Oh, this should be interesting.**

The man in question spun around to face you, his rumpled black hair flopping against his brow. He needed a hair cut, badly. He looked like a street urchin with such a long style. You wondered why the constable had allowed his son’s grooming to go amiss so. He was normally quite a stickler for a fine, upstanding appearance.

Then you remembered what Zach had said the day before, when you’d first seen him.

His father was…ill?

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you strode through to your bedside, setting the glass onto the table and dropping the golden flower inside. You were hoping to cut straight to the point. If the constable was ill, you wanted to know.

“I told you already,” Zach muttered, his eyes on the flower when you turned to him. “My dad is sick and needs help. He won’t let me help, though. Says there’s nothing wrong with him.” You frowned at his words, ready to reply, but he cut you off with, “Who gave you that?”

Your mouth shut softly as your eyebrows rose high. You had never heard him speak to you like that before. He sounded almost—

**Jealous. Ah, I was right.**

You were thinking more _incensed_ but yes, there was certainly a hint of jealousy in his voice that did nothing to ease your existing annoyance with him. He spoke to you as if he had any right to know, despite your…complicated past.

**Complicated?**

Well, you supposed it wasn’t really _that_ complicated. It could be boiled down to a few phrases: family friends from nearly birth, grew up together, fell in love as young adults, you were scorned when your mind began deteriorating due to your friend’s growing influence from afar.

**Really?**

Really.

**…and you _saved_ him.**

You smiled bitterly.

“I fail to see how that is related to your father’s illness, Zachary. Please stay focused.”

Zach’s eyes narrowed as they flicked from the flower to your face, before settling on you. You merely looked back at him, direct and wide-eyed. He seemed to physically deflate after a few moments, unable to keep up his act when faced with your bluntness.

“He…He’s not been himself since those men left to investigate that hole.” Your ears perked up at the mention of the murdered men, and you fought to keep your face neutral. Zach hardly noticed you at all, though, as his eyes were turned to the floor. “They were…only supposed to be gone a few days, a week at most. They were meant to send word every other day. But they never did. And they still haven’t returned.”

Your hands began trembling as you remembered the body in the bedroll, being tossed over the pit by a dead-faced Sans. You’d thought him a human acting as a monster back then. Now you knew the truth: that he was a monster…just doing his job.

You traced the outline of your pendants anxiously, not saying anything to encourage or deny Zach, but merely listening as he spoke.

“Those men…most of them had wives. The day after they were supposed to come back, their wives all came to my dad, asking for help. But he—he refused. Said that they were just being hysterical.”

Your eyebrows shot up even higher than before. That was not at _all_ like the constable. You had _never_ heard him speak like that to a woman, no matter how hysterical she may be. He had been one of the only men you could trust to treat you as he would anyone else: with kindness and compassion. He had been more of a father figure to you than your real father had managed.

Zach gave a weak, pained smile at the look on your face. He had obviously guessed what you were thinking. He had never quite lived up to his father’s example, often falling prey to his friends’ suggestions or coercion. It had always been a sore point between you.

“So I told them _I_ would go look for their husbands, and relay back anything I found. But then…my dad, he…” Zach paused, his voice cracking somewhat.

“He didn’t _hit_ you?” you whispered, horrified at the thought that came into your mind unbidden.

Zach shook his head quickly. “No. No, nothing like that. But he, ah…he said some things he would never have said to me, normally. Shouted at me. Threatened to stick me in jail until I said I wouldn’t go. But I couldn’t. I—I couldn’t just _not help_ those women. You understand, don’t you, Frisk?” Zach looked to you with wide, pleading eyes, and you grasped your pendants through your shirt. “You would have done the same, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, speechless. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What had happened to the constable to cause him to act like this? You hadn’t noticed anything particularly awry when you’d seen him last, but that had been nearly two weeks ago. The only odd thing that had happened was…

Oh, God, you remembered, suddenly. The look on the constable’s face. The way he kept looking back at the hole with a glazed expression. Had something _happened_ to him, even back then? Had he been affected by something that caused him to act so unlike himself?

“That’s not even the worst part.”

Your eyes shot back up to Zach’s, and you tensed, ready to hear what could possibly be worse than the constable being infected with something from that damned hole.

Zach was practically shaking when he swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “The women—those men’s wives—the day after I told them I would go look for the missing men…they disappeared. All of them.”

You went cold all over, as though someone had dropped you in a tub of ice water.

“They’re just _gone_ , Frisk. I went around to everyone’s houses, looking for any signs of foul play, but there’s—there’s _nothing_! It’s like they just—just _walked off into the ocean_!” Zach cried, shaking his head fiercely, his hands clenched and his eyes wide. He looked like he was teetering on the brink of mania.

**Probably panicking.**

You couldn’t blame him one bit! You were feeling fairly ill yourself, just thinking about it. Though it might be easier on you, considering you had a pretty clear idea of what had happened to the women.

Or worse.

Definitely worse.

You were going to be sick.

“And then when I come here to figure why this has been happening, I find _you_. Carousing with those _beasts._ ” Zach was breathing hard through his nose, his hand slashing down through the air. Your stomach turned at the disgusted look on his face. He didn’t look like himself at all. He looked completely addled—his eyes rolling from you to the flower, and around to the sight of the mountain through your window. “What did they offer you, Frisk? Money? Drugs?” His eyes went dangerously narrow, and you got a horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Or is it much worse than I thought? You haven’t… _given yourself_ to them, have you?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, your fist clenched around your pendants. Zach was stalking closer to you now, stopping only a few feet away. You backed away until your thighs touched the bedside table, jostling the small glass working as a vase.

“My God, you _have_!” Zach cried, his eyes wide again. His teeth were bared in a grimace as he snatched at your shoulders, giving you a hard shake. “You’re _fucking_ them, like some kind of demon’s _whore_!”

**Oh, dear, I find myself liking this boy less and less.**

Your throat tightened until you were entirely unable to speak. How _dare_ he speak to you like this? What gave him the right, when you hadn’t even _seen_ him for years, despite your relocation? You were incredibly sorry that the constable was ill, and you would absolutely try to go see him and find out what the problem was, but you were _not_ going to be spoken to like that by someone like him.

“I think you should go, Zachary.”

The grip on your shoulders tightened, and you had to fight back a wince. “I’m not going _anywhere_ unless you’re coming with me.”

“I’m not _leaving_ with _you_ —”

“Then I’m not leaving either!” Zach shouted, desperation and anger clear in his countenance. You glared up at him, feeling your nostrils flare with anger of your own. You wanted badly to hurt him—with a slap, or a punch, or a knee to his groin—but you were better than that. You were better than him.

**Though perhaps it would be best to be a bit more, ah, _insistent_ in your refusal.**

You spared a moment to wonder what your friend was trying to say.

**Our company has arrived early, it seems.**

Your anger drained away in a heartbeat, replaced with shock and dread. Oh, no. No, no. Surely, they didn’t mean that—

Oh, God, they did.

There was a familiar gloved hand slipping into your room, gripping the window sill before sliding along to the wall.

The brothers had arrived.

“Do you hear me, Frisk?”

Another hand joined the first.

“I’m _not_ leaving you here to be taken by those demons!” 

With a silent, deadly grace, Papyrus snaked through the window, his hands and feet glowing softly blue as he climbed along the wall behind Zach’s back.

“I’m taking you back with me, away from this place!”

Your eyes widened as Papyrus positioned himself just above and behind Zach’s head, hanging upside-down on ceiling. Your heart thumped at how the lights of his eyes pulsed fast and hard, narrowed to half their usual size as he looked between you and Zach.

“You hear me? _I won’t lose you to them too_!”

You barely even noticed how Zach shook you, you were so focused on Papyrus…

…who very obviously _had_ noticed Zach’s rough treatment of you.

**If you don’t want the lad to have a rude awakening, then perhaps you should remove him.**

You wholeheartedly agreed. You shifted your eyes from Papyrus to Zach, who was looming over you in a way that might have frightened you, before everything with the mountain had happened. Instead, though, you just saw how desperate he was, how lost. He was trying to take control of anything he thought he could get his hands on, and unfortunately you were the easiest target.

At least, you would have been, when he last knew you.

“Zachary, when I said it was time to leave—” You placed your hands on his chest and gave him a rough, stiff-armed shove. “—I meant it.” You marched over to your door before he could get his bearings again and stood beside it. “Now. Out.”

He stood in the middle of your room, angry and dumbfounded, completely unaware of the horror looming just above him, sharp teeth parting softly as though he’d love to bite into him. When Zach crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly ready to throw the adult equivalent of a temper tantrum, you quickly said,

“Out, Zachary, or I will have someone forcibly remove you from my room.”

He hesitated only a moment more, before some of the wind left his sails and he stomped over to you, crossing the threshold of your room. You tried shutting the door behind him, but threw a hand against it at the last moment, putting his face close to yours in the gap.

“Fine, Frisk, I’m leaving now, but this isn’t the end. I’m going to go back to my dad and _make him_ return with his men. I don’t care what it takes—I’m not giving up on you.”

His heated words did nothing to intimidate or fluster you whatsoever. You merely stared back at him, your heart sinking. “You already gave up on me a long time ago, Zachary. Go back to your father. Look after him. I’ll come calling when you’re feeling more like yourself.”

Without another word, you shoved against his hand until the door clicked fully shut. Just to be sure, you slid the bolt across, your hand trembling. You stood there for a moment, just taking long, slow breaths, trying to cleanse the acrid, black bile from your heart as you heard his footsteps retreat down the corridor. You shouldn’t feel so bitterly towards Zach, you knew—it had been so long ago that he had hurt you—but hearing him speak to you like that had brought it all back.

**The boy is lucky to have someone like you looking out for him, even when he is so completely unaware of the dangers that surround him.**

Speaking of the dangers…

You sighed softly as you turned, to see that Papyrus had come down from the ceiling and was standing just behind you. His hands were clasped together tightly and his head was bowed, as though he wanted to bring himself down to your level. His eyes were much larger now, the lights soft around the edges as he looked down at you. Your breath caught at how penitent, how _worried_ he appeared.

“Frisk,” he whispered, after you shared several moments of tense eye contact. His voice was so tentative that your heart felt as though he had wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed. “A-are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth. You tried to say that yes, you were okay, that Zach hadn’t hurt you, but you ended up choking on the words. You were so nervous. 

You just nodded, instead.

Papyrus shuffled marginally closer. “A-are you sure? B-because that man w-was—he was being v-veryyy—” His eyes sharpened briefly, almost too quick for you to have noticed it if you weren’t caught in his gaze. “—r-r-rrruuude.” The last part came out in almost a growl, and you nearly smiled at his choice of words.

Zachary certainly _had_ been rude.

**More like he was being a little shit.**

That too.

“I’m okay,” you managed to rasp, speaking around the lump in your throat.

Papyrus wrung his hands together, nodding to acknowledge your words. You could tell how nervous he was, with the way he swayed toward you softly, as though unconsciously reaching for you. You didn’t say anything more to disrupt him, seeing that he was trying hard to find the words to say something to you. 

Finally, he managed to murmur, his eyes wide and hopeful, “Th-then, if you’re…o-okay…w-would you mind—terribly—if I…?” Papyrus held his hands out wide enough for you to see that he was asking to embrace you. 

As soon as you understood, you stepped forward without hesitation, acting on impulse. You slid your arms around his ribs, pressing your face into his hard chest as you clasped your hands at his spine. Papyrus froze for only the barest moment before his arms went around you, holding you even closer to the strange warmth that bloomed from beneath his sternum. Your ears tickled as you heard that same heartbeat sound as you had from Sans, though Papyrus’s was faster, and softer. It was like a moth’s wings beating against your ear. You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent and feeling that this was… _right_. It was so unbelievable at the same time, though. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it was to hug a monster and feel like it was the right thing to be doing.

But it did.

Before you could say you were sorry for what you’d done to him, Papyrus began whispering quickly, his voice shaking and close to your ear. “F-Frisk, thank y-you, I know y-y-you can’t be com-comfortable with th-this, b-but I w-was ssso worried wh-when I heard sh-sh-shouting, and when I saw him…saw him…sssaw hiiiimmm… _shaking you_ …I wasn’t—I could have—I…it _helps_ to b-b-be _close_ to you. I’m s-s-sorry, I-I-I can ssstop, though, if y-you want! I kn-know you wanted t-t-to talk and w-we parted on sssuch bad termsss—and—”

“‘Pyrus,” you mumbled, cutting him off before he could ramble any more. “Stop.”

Papyrus stilled, going quiet. You inhaled slowly before exhaling in a rush, sighing at the end. You pulled away, smiling hesitantly up at him, surprised by the wide, wondering way he looked back at you.

“You c-called me ‘Pyrus.”

You breathed out a slightly embarrassed laugh. “I did indeed. I, ah, I apologise if that makes you uncomfortable. It just slipped out.”

“No one but Sans ever calls me that,” he said, and you smiled wider, though still apologetically. Before you could say that you wouldn’t call him that again, he cut in with, “B-But please don’t think I don’t like it because of that! I—I’ve just never had a f—had s-someone else call me by that n-nickname.”

Your heart swelled at the fact that he had almost called you his friend. Did that mean that he had forgiven you at least a little bit already?

**I told you he would.**

Your stomach filled with butterflies. “I’ll, ah…I’ll bear that in mind.” You felt warmth climbing up your neck and spreading across your cheeks. “Speaking of Sans—where is he?”

“Here.”

You peered around Papyrus to see Sans leaning against the wall outside, only his shoulder visible in the window from your position. You blinked.

“Why are you standing out there? Don’t you want to come inside so we can talk?” you asked.

Sans turned just enough so you could see the side of his face and one eye. “I’m, uh…not really supposed to go in the Home. Plus, don’t really think I’d fit.”

“Nonsense!” you huffed, shaking your head and walking over to the window. You leaned out enough to catch his eye. He stared back at you with amusement. “Of course you’ll fit. Who told you you aren’t welcome in the Home?”

“Uh,” Sans said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “The, uh…the matron.”

You reeled back. “What? But that—that’s—how do you two—”

**Focus. We can ask the matron herself about that later.**

Your friend was right. “Well, no matter. Even if the matron said that before, I know for a fact that she has no issue with you _now_. So come on! Hop in.”

Sans looked between you and the window doubtfully, standing up straight. You just smiled encouragingly, stepping back to let him through. As you did so, though, his eyes snapped up to yours and something like a smirk crossed his features.

Then he was gone.

You stopped dead, your mouth dropping open.

**What—**

Large, bony hands took hold of your shoulders, and a voice rumbled in your ear,

“Boo.”

You made a very undignified noise in the back of your throat—something between a yelp and a frog’s croak—and you spun around to see Sans standing there, laughing at your reaction. You looked between him and the window, holding a hand to your racing heart. “How—how did you—”

“I thought that you would have noticed us using magic by now,” Sans said, still grinning as he went to lean against the wall. Papyrus was shooting him a frustrated look, but Sans just ignored it, crossing his ankles and closing his eyes.

“Magic?” you repeated, feeling slightly dense for not putting the clues together.

“Yes, all monsters have magic,” Papyrus responded, his voice still quite nervous, though he wasn’t stuttering anymore. “It’s—what we’re made of. Quite literally.” When you just blinked back at him, he made a humming sound. “Sans’s is, admittedly, a bit flashier than most. No one else can use his type of shortcuts.”

You were about to repeat the word again, but you shut your mouth before you could. You didn’t want to seem like you were a silly girl who could only parrot something back when she was confused.

**How could you possibly understand this immediately when they never even hinted at it?**

You supposed they were right. You weren’t a stranger to…certain types of magic…but nothing like what Sans had just done.

“It’s what I used to get us down the mountain, away from Muffet,” Sans muttered, and you remembered the awful, choking _nothing_ that you had fallen through when you’d thought you were going to die. Your eyes widened.

“ _That’s_ what that was?” You shook your head. “Lord, but that was _horrible_. Why would you do that just to give me a scare?”

Papyrus and Sans shared a confused look before Sans seemed to come to some conclusion, as he made a sort of ‘ohhh’ sound. “It doesn’t feel like hardly anything to me. Maybe a little claustrophobic. But nothing too bad.” He shrugged a shoulder, in a way that was obviously meant to be casual, but came off as apologetic. “Didn’t think about how it would feel for you. Sorry about that.”

You sat hard on the end of your bed. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I understand. You can’t be expected to know what’s going to—to hurt me and not you.” You watched Sans for a moment longer before your eyes fell to your hands, laying loose and palm-up in your lap. You slouched with the weight of the words you knew you had to say eventually. You rolled your tongue between your teeth, trying to decide exactly how you could say it. “That’s…actually what I wanted to talk to you both about.”

You didn’t look up, despite the crushing silence that fell over the room. You decided to just do it; just let the words come. No amount of planning would help this go smoothly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot on what happened—what I did. The things I said. I—I was _wrong_ , Papyrus. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and taken it out on you. I shouldn’t have let my fear get the best of me. I shouldn’t have _hurt my friend_ because I was scared of being close to them.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Papyrus take a step closer. “Frisk…” he said softly, but you held up a hand, still refusing to look up.

“Please, Papyrus, I have to say this. Just—just let me say this.” You took a deep breath, feeling your friend’s presence slide around your shoulders in the imitation of a hug. “Yes, I shouldn’t have done any of those things, and I am very, truly sorry that I hurt you because I was so afraid. But that’s exactly the problem between us, Papyrus. _I am afraid_. 

“Even though I do think of you as—as someone who could be a friend—who I hope _will be_ my friend—I am still very scared of you. Of both of you.” One of your hands clenched into a fist as the other took hold of your pendants through your shirt. You needed the calm they brought you. Your voice dropped to nearly a whisper as you finished with, “Of…of _all_ of you.”

You felt your friend flinch slightly, and you knew they had understood.

“Frisk.”

You looked up, finally, your cheeks burning with shame. You were staring directly into Papyrus’s eyes, gentle and understanding as they were, but you could feel the force of Sans’s gaze on you. You knew that he would have caught your last words and would be quickly putting it the clues together.

“Papyrus, I’m—I’m so scared,” you said, breathing hard with the emotion clawing at your heart. “I’m scared of what you are capable of. You’ve— _hurt me_. You’ve both shown such a lack of concern for the people I care about. When I thought that you might not forgive me for what I did to you, I was afraid that you would tell the other monsters in that mountain that they could hunt me and the other humans here in the Home. 

“What if something happens again? What if we disagree about something, or if one of us wants to stop being friends or…or…” Your eyes flicked over to the flower, not knowing how to express what you were trying to say. “Will I have to be afraid for the rest of my life that a horror will come find me in my home and tear me apart? Will I end up having to hurt my friend again? Will I have to be afraid that my friend will hurt me again?” 

You tried to take a deep breath, but your throat was constricted as you watched Papyrus’s face go through so many emotions: horror, fear, insecurity, compassion, empathy. Then only one was left, and as he closed the distance between you, his eyes shining with determination, you asked in a whisper, “Are you going to hurt me again, Papyrus?”

You were swept up in his arms without hesitation, cradled close to his chest as he sat with you in his lap, one arm around your back and the other holding you at your hip. You clung to him, the sound of his heartbeat instantly soothing you as your arms wrapped diagonally across his ribs and shoulders and clasped behind his neck. He buried his face into your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin.

“I…I want so badly to say no, I won’t hurt you,” he murmured into your ear, sending shivers through you. “But I can’t say that, and risk it happening again despite my best intentions. I’m—not shaped to be kind to humans. I’m still learning to compensate for your frailty. And even though Sans and I are brothers who love each other, even _we_ get into hurtful arguments. So I can’t promise that you won’t get hurt anymore, or that you won’t hurt me again either.” He paused, and you held your breath, eyes closed. “But you have to know that I would never hurt you on purpose. In any way.”

You drew in a shuddering breath, heart hammering in your chest. You didn’t know what to say to that. You hadn’t expected such eloquence from Papyrus, or for him to admit that you’d hurt him while saying in practically the same breath that he forgave you, because it was just what people _did_. You had to hide your face against your arm, because you didn’t know if it was right, what either of you were saying. 

You’d never had a healthy relationship, either friendship or…or what seemed to be blossoming between you and Papyrus. You’d never even had a family who had treated you with this level of respect and honesty. You didn’t know if you should be put off that he was giving you fair warning you of his struggle with the incompatibilities between you. You didn’t know if you should be happy about it. You definitely appreciated his honesty, but at the same time, it felt like he might be giving himself a loophole for the future, in case he hurt you again.

**I don’t think that’s his intention, considering he did say he wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. He is trying to make amends, while offering you an open door to leave, in case it is too much for you.**

You thought on your friends words as Papyrus kept very still, simply holding you and breathing you in deeply. You believed they were probably right about him, and what he had intended. Papyrus didn’t seem to be the sort of person—monster—to be particularly interested in subterfuge. He had been the more openly helpful of the two brothers, and had made his feelings for you clear from the start. It had been you who had tried to trick _him_ , in fact. The major hurdle you knew you would face with Papyrus, if you chose to pursue his friendship or otherwise, was that he needed to understand you weren’t the only human worth treating with respect.

**I think he will come to terms with that eventually, whether or not you convince him yourself. Did he not argue against capturing or killing that boy when he was spying on you?**

You bit your lip. Your friend was right. He _had_ told Sans not to hurt Zachary. Though that may be only because you had wished for it, did it really matter where the change of heart came from? Did you need him to feel compassion for other humans because _he_ wished to, or was it enough that he seemed to care because _you_ cared? Wasn’t that exactly what Sans had said—that you were being unfair, expecting them to spontaneously feel compassion for humans, even though they didn’t know them?

Perhaps it was simply a natural human reaction from you, expecting someone to paint others of a race or species with the same brush. Hadn’t you done just that with them? Yes, you had been attacked and almost killed by another monster, but _they weren’t her_. Just because one monster wanted to hurt you, didn’t mean they all did. Especially when the brothers had had so many chances to hurt you before then, and hadn’t.

You began to shake with the force of your realisation. You had wronged Papyrus so badly, and for no reason other than pure human folly.

It somehow made it worse than he had seemingly just…forgiven you. Even before you had made your case. How had he found it in him to forgive someone so easily? You—you had always struggled with it—needing to remind yourself that everyone deserved a second chance. It was not something you had been taught as a child, and so you had simply had to teach yourself as an adult.

You admired Papyrus for that  _so much_.

“Frisk? Are you—are you okay?”

You startled at the sound of Papyrus’s voice, still so close to your ear. You exhaled breathily, nodding against him.

“Thank goodness. You went quiet for so long I w-was worried you had decided not to be my friend after all.”

You leaned back quickly, but carefully, making sure not to hit his head with yours. You locked eyes with him, your heart racing even faster at your closeness. You had a passing thought that you could just lean forward and press your lips to his teeth. You wondered if that would feel nice for him, or if it would be only for your benefit.

**Sweetheart, it wouldn’t just be for _your_ benefit.**

You stopped thinking about it.

Laughter echoed in response.

“‘Pyrus, that’s not it at all. I—” you stopped suddenly, a thought occurring to you. You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “I wish I had had some more time before you’d arrived.”

“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry, did we come at a bad time?” Papyrus asked, his eyes going wide. “If you’d like we could—”

“No, no, it’s just that—I had something I wanted to give you. A present. Well. A silly idea, really.” You looked away, and your eyes met Sans’s. You were surprised to see him looking at you almost hungrily, his eyes seeming to drink in the sight of you. When your eyes met, though, his face fell into a sort of sheepish smile. You blinked, a small smile of your own lifting the corners of your mouth. “I was going to make you a meal. To—to show my intention.”

“Oh!” Papyrus exclaimed softly, his eyes going bright. “Were you—I mean, did you intend it to be a token of—of friendship?”

You felt a blush spread across your face again, and heard your friend’s delighted laughter. “Yes. But if I were to make it now, I think it would possibly be more like…the flowers you gave me.”

You were worried that bringing up the flowers you had callously discarded would sour the brightening mood between you, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. In fact, his eyes went even brighter, practically glowing bright enough to cast shadows. His smile was so sweet and hopeful that your breath caught. 

“Do you mean that?”

You smiled wider, though you were still feeling incredibly shy. “I do, yes.”

“I don’t think she would have taken one of your flowers home if she didn’t mean it, ‘Pyrus.”

Papyrus looked between Sans and where he gestured. His eyes lit on the flower in its little makeshift vase, and you bit your lip softly, watching his face. He turned back to you after a few seconds, and the look of pure joy in his eyes made your heart sing. He might be a monster, but there was no mistaking the adoration in his expression at that moment.

“Frisk…” he choked out, before snatching you close again and holding you tight, falling back against the headboard in a recline. You laughed softly, just closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth against your cheek as you sprawled against him. You simply sat like that for several long moments before Sans spoke, his deep voice sounding both amused and oddly restrained.

“As nice as it is that we’re all friends again, it doesn’t exactly _solve_ anything. Papyrus and I are still putting ourselves at risk by helping and you are still at risk simply because of your…tendency.”

You rolled your head to the side to face Sans, Papyrus’s ribs pressing against your cheek as you met his eyes. He looked oddly uncomfortable, even averting his eyes when you smiled. “Still. Isn’t it nice to know you have support?”

“Yes, that helps so much,” Sans said somewhat roughly. “Help from a human and her…friend.”

You blinked when you heard your friend chuckle darkly and sink against your throat and mouth, asking you silently for permission.

You gave it without hesitation, awed that they were actually going to reveal themselves to the brothers.

“ **You may scoff at Frisk’s eagerness to support you against that master of yours, but I would hope that having someone like me on your side would be a bit more impressive to someone like you.** ”

You oddly relished the look that crossed Sans’s face as your throat produced your friend’s voice instead of your own. He looked absolutely flabbergasted. You could tell he hadn’t actually expected to get a personal response from them, even if he had guessed that someone spoke directly to you.

**That means that whoever is pulling his strings likely isn’t actually _possessing_ him. They are a separate being.**

You smiled inwardly, humming silently to yourself as you settled against Papyrus, your eyes drooping. You were _exhausted_ after the emotional ups and downs of the last two days. You had never wished for the ability to simply fall asleep so badly.

“Frisk, who—why do you sound so different?” Papyrus asked, his voice nervous.

You closed your eyes, your breath slowing. “Don’t worry, ‘Pyrus,” you mumbled past your friend’s presence. “It’s just my friend. They want to talk to you. Help you.”

“Talk to us about _what_?” Sans asked, his voice higher than usual. He seemed just as disconcerted as his brother, though he hid it better. “And who are they?”

“ **Ah-ah, Teddy Bear, not so fast. You need to do some sweet-talking first before you can know something like that,** ” your friend said, a hint of laughter in their words. “ **You’ve wanted to get to me for a while now, haven’t you? Well, you’ve got me right where you want me. So go ahead. Talk.** ”

“I—” Sans stuttered, before he seemed to collect himself, shaking his head slightly. His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from us? Why did you tell Frisk to get close to us?”

“ **Because she’s been desperate for friendship other than my own for years.** ”

You spluttered silently, mentally glaring at your friend as you felt Papyrus’s fingers slowly begin stroking through your hair. That _wasn’t true_.

**Hush, dear, yes it is.**

“ **And I wanted to know more about your master.** ”

“Ah, there it is,” Sans said, his eyes glinting. “I knew it.”

“ **Of course you did, sweetheart, because Frisk practically _spelled it out_ for you already. If you hadn’t guessed by now that it was me who wanted to know, then I would have lost all faith in you. I can’t be expected to make allies with an _idiot_ , can I?**”

Oh, Lord, Papyrus’s fingers felt so nice against your scalp. He was gentle enough that despite the sharpness of his bones, he was still practically making you purr with pleasure. Somewhere in the back of your mind you felt that you should be more ashamed of the way you were practically sprawled together, or how eager you were for him to keep touching you, or how often you thought of pressing your lips to his bones. But you simply couldn’t care. You were _enjoying_ it.

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to make an ally out of someone who won’t even tell me their name, but wants information from me?” Sans scoffed. Your eyes had closed in pleasure, so you could only imagine the look on his face. It would be amused, but disbelieving. The ridges above his eyes that served as his brows would be lowered. He would be smiling in a way that would be deliberately annoying to your friend. “As tempting as the offer is, I think I have to decline.”

You took a peek through heavy lids.

Yes, that was exactly how Sans was looking.

You smiled.

**Are you feeling quite alright? You’re never this exhausted, even after the sort of days you’ve just had.**

You were fine. Just…tired.

You could feel your mouth open to reply to Sans, no doubt, but your friend was cut off by Papyrus’s slightly annoyed voice.

“Sans, can you please stop being so obtuse? If this person is a friend of Frisk’s and wants to help us, then I say we give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“‘Pyrus, we can’t afford to be so trusting! What if they’re trying to—”

“Trying to _what_ , Sans?” Papyrus asked, sounding somewhat fed up. “Hurt us? Use us? Manipulate us? Because even if they are, I don’t see a difference between that and what is already happening.”

**This is certainly interesting. There is a disparity between their viewpoints.**

**…**

**Their master may have lost one of its dog’s loyalty somehow. I wonder how _that_ could have happened.**

You stirred slightly in response, the sound of Papyrus’s heartbeat and his ministrations practically putting you to sleep despite your inability. You were just going very still, and thinking very slowly.

**Frisk? Do you need me to put you to sleep?**

Mmm.

“‘Pyrus…do you really think it’s a good idea to put ourselves in even more danger? What if they are an _enemy_?”

“ **I could perhaps allay your fears on that, at least. I have no living enemies. All of mine perished long ago—so long ago that even their names have been forgotten.** ”

You could hear Sans shifting faintly, and Papyrus stroked along your back with his free hand.

“See, Sans?” Papyrus asked, speaking softly. “I understand that you don’t want to take unnecessary risks. I don’t either, believe me. But I don’t see what harm it would do to at least give them a chance to prove themself. And maybe they can actually _help_.”

Sans was very quiet.

“Please, brother. We can’t do this alone. You know that as much as I do.”

Sans was still quiet.

**Frisk, you never answered, sweetheart. Do you need me to put you to sleep?**

You wouldn’t mind it. You were feeling...odd.

Hot.

**Then sleep.**

Your friend’s soft, shadowy hand slipped across your eyes and mind, and you began falling into dreams almost immediately. The last thing you heard was the rumbled, reluctant words,

“Fine. We’ll give you one chance. But if you betray us…I promise you’ll regret it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the fire consumes and creates...heat.
> 
> This marks the end of Part One of the story! Part Two will be the beginning of the sexually explicit content, so be warned! I will obviously remind you at the beginning of the next chapter, but have this pre-warning-warning! Hoorah.
> 
> Tumblr, ah, finds a way. tellcosy.tumblr.com


	19. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick fan aaaart!
> 
>  
> 
> [ Joyful Papyrus by librarydrone ](http://librarydrone.tumblr.com/post/143386943073/so-my-work-in-progress-is-now-complete-have)  
> [ Out, Zachary by HibernalBeast ](http://hibernalbeast.tumblr.com/post/143396135280/local-spiderman-interrupts-an-argument-out)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> BEFORE I GO 
> 
>  
> 
> **WEEEEEEOOOOOO WEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WAAAAAAAAAYOOOOOOOOO WAAAAAAAAAAAAYOOOOOOOOOOO**
> 
>  
> 
> **This is a warning that there is sexually explicit content in this chapter!**
> 
>  
> 
> Enjooooyy~
> 
> **11/08/2017 Edited down, content not quite as explicit now**

 

You awoke to a fire consuming you from the inside.

You gasped to life, your eyes wide, your mouth falling open as your back arched.

The moon met your eyes and it  _ sang to you _ .

Come to me.

Come to me.

_ Come to me _ .

You gripped the bedsheets beneath you, your toes pointing against the mattress. You hardly noticed that you were no longer wearing your mack, or your boots. You groaned loudly—a guttural, sensual sound that added to the heat pooled between your thighs. You were panting, thrashing tense enough to strain your muscles.

What was happening?

Oh, God, you were so  _ hot _ .

You needed something, though you weren’t sure what.

The moon cried your name.

You called back to it, but the names that fell from your lips did not sound like the moon.

They sounded like the earth.

Like soft stillness.

Like proud protectiveness.

_ Oh how you needed! _

**Frisk! What is—what is** **_happening_ ** **?**

_ You _ — _ didn’t _ — _ know _ !

You held an arm over your mouth, biting it hard enough to cry out in pleasure. Oh, sweet pain, sweet earthly connection that brought the living and dead together, bound them, tied them together inexorably, invariably—

**Something is—something is** **_wrong_ ** **. You’re so** **_hot—_ **

_ You were on fire _

**What do we**

_ What could you _

**Go, go**

_ Now _

**Out, out**

**I**

_ You _

**_Need._ **

**_Need!_ **

**_NEED!_ **

You slid from your bed, gasping at every movement.

You tore yourself from the cloth holding you in.

You stood in the moonlight, bathing in the moonsong, your heart responding to its call.

You slammed your window open, falling from the sill like a newborn foal. You stayed kneeling on all fours, face close to the ground, panting softly, breathing in the earth’s musky scent as rain fell from the heavens, soaking into your skin, soothing the ravenous beast the barest amount. You could feel a heartbeat beneath your hands, deep, deep, so far down that you could have dreamt it, thought it up in the darkest of nights, where the shadows were thick and restless.

**Oh Frisk, oh my sweet, my lovely, my favourite**

You were blanketed in them

Squeezed constricted clawed

They filled you

Tip

To

Toe

_ You needed more _

You needed  _ them _

You ran, their body your body their mind your mind their soul your soul 

you were one but two

And the moon sang

**Find them**

You ran with your heart pressing pressing

Singing singing

It searched for them

**We need them**

You needed so much

You couldn’t wait

**I can help**

**I can help my darling**

The slap—slap—slap of your feet against the rain-slick earth, the wind teasing you with cool droplets sliding into your mouth, the touch of the darkness against your body

The shadows that craved, that satisfied, that loved you, only you, only who you loved

**I do I do**

_ You couldn’t wait! _

You fell to your hands and knees, surrounded by the trees and red red moonlight, spilling its lifeblood over the earth and making it full, fat, fertile.

You basked in it, you worshipped at the foot of the Red Lady, the beautiful goddess of life, cruel god of death, loving child of the earth.

**Give yourself to me.**

You bent forward, pressing your face to the soil, prostrating yourself before your friend, your lover.

You obeyed.

You slid your palms against the mossy earth, digging your fingers into the soil.  

You writhed, wriggled, sighed, screamed

Fell prey to their shadows moving deftly inside

Constricted, pulled apart, loved desperately

Loved raw

Begged for more

**_Tell me you love me_ ** **.**

You did. You loved them so much, more than the sun, more than life, more than anything.

**_I want to hear it!_ **

You smiled wide, your mouth parting softly as you moaned, the sight of the full moon filling your head with love and beauty. You were moon-struck, moon-mad—a lunatic.

You professed your love to the stars, wailing helpless

You held no power here, other than your prostration

You gave yourself fully

Opened yourself heart and soul, mind and body

Every piece of you clicked and clacked into place, the key slipping through the keyhole and slotting perfectly

Your memories slammed through your mind, threatening to tear you apart. But you were already shaking and tensing and sighing and screaming, your heels skidding along the wet grass as you shook with release

The space between you grew tight, tight, tight, hot and desperate and angry and foul and horrible and you couldn’t—you couldn’t!— _ you couldn’t understand! YOU COULDN’T UNDERSTAND!  _ You were screaming louder, now, howling like a wild woman possessed with visions of the stars, the moon a lovely belly full of life ready to spill out onto the earth, her red lips parting soft and mad and hallow  _ and _ —and  _ ohhhh GOD _ ! GOD ABOVE GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS GODS

FOUL BEASTS

FOUL DEITY

UNEARTH

DEAD EARTH

You tore at your skin and eyes, bucking into your possessor as they consumed you from the inside out, fire burning on your thighs and lips

Your lover snapped away at that, leaving a gaping, hollow hole in your soul that—for only the briefest of moments—had you gasping for life, eyes bloody and clotted with the disgusting knowledge you could not parse into humanity.

You saw only another moment’s worth of jumbled images and thoughts and words before a wall built itself between you.

Then…

…as the shadows formed a barrier around your heart, shrieking with the emptiness of that dark place…

…the fire in you was banked. 

And you were you again.

You shivered as your mind adjusted, shifting until you could think in words, in human countenance. Your shivers turned to convulsions as the shadow settled further, no longer unstitched from you. The heat in you dissipated slowly but surely, the shadows unrelenting in their shelter of you. 

What—what had  _ happened _ ?

**Frisk? Are you okay?**

You rode out the minor convulsions before sitting up shakily, your arms and legs like jelly as you propped yourself up by your elbows. 

Where...where were you?

You were sitting in the middle of the forest—likely at the foot of the mountain, by the familiar trails you could see leading away from your position. The small patter of rain against your naked body was cold and uncomfortable, though it did help to shake you from your stupor.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps.

You looked up at the moon.

It was swimming in your bloodied eyes, shaking with something like amusement.

You blinked, holding a hand to your chest, on the bone just between your breasts. You could feel your heartbeat pounding away against your hand faster than it should while at rest. 

What was  _ wrong  _ with you?

What had you done?

**I’m not actually sure. But I think we...**

Oh,  _ God _ .

You couldn’t remember everything—the visions that had torn through your mind, now fading away into tense darkness once more, were difficult to navigate through. But you could remember enough. The animalistic  _ need _ in you, the desperation. The drive to find— _ someone _ .

Who?

You couldn’t quite remember.

Your head spun as you stood, using a nearby tree to keep yourself steady. Your knees nearly collapsed under you, but you leaned against the tree’s rough bark until you felt confident enough to move. You bent over yourself slightly, your shoulders slumping as you braced yourself with one hand, your eyes closing. Your entire body was shivery, as though you were badly ill.

**That may not be far from the truth. You’re still burning up with whatever this compulsion is. It’s—not easy—to maintain you through this. I still want to...well.**

You could tell.

You could still feel the compulsion in you, though it had been dampened considerably. You were grateful for their strength, suddenly. You knew you would be too exhausted to resist it if it wasn’t for them.

**Perhaps we should go back before the brothers return.**

Your eyes snapped open wide.

Sans and Papyrus!

Oh, God, God—that was who you had been searching for!

A cold shiver rolled down your spine.

You’d been searching for Sans and Papyrus with that compulsion in your heart.

What would have happened if you’d found them?

**Nothing good, I imagine. Thank the stars they went hunting. They probably won’t return for a little while.**

You heaved a great sigh, though you were anxious to be back now. You were being bombarded by unwanted anxieties: what if they were hunting in this forest? What if they had heard you? What if they had come running, thinking that your screams were you being hurt, and had seen you writhing and naked on the forest floor?

God in heaven, you couldn’t think about it.

It was best if you just ran home.

**Don’t push yourself too hard, Frisk.**

You were running already, shame wriggling inside your belly. You found yourself watching the moon as you ran, your eyes inexorably drawn to it.

**And I wouldn’t look at that, either.**

You tore your eyes away from its wide, blood-gorged face with reluctance. Why couldn’t you look at the moon anymore?

**Because it’s got its claws in your heart.**

You blinked as you neared the Home, checking to see that no one was at their windows before darting from the trees to your window. You breathed in deeply as soon as you set foot in your room, expecting the familiar scent of wood and dust and age, but you froze when all you could smell was _flowers_.

Your eyes immediately found the flower in its little makeshift vase.

You felt a pressure against your ribs, and you had to brace yourself against the wall while you caught your breath.

**Maybe you should sit.**

Your friend’s unnerved tone sent a bolt of alarm through you but you worked through it, opting to get yourself dressed again. Once you were fully clothed, you sat on the edge of your bed, pointedly faced away from the moonlight splashed across your floor.

You stared at the pile of clothes you had discarded earlier, while under the effect of the fire in your heart. Your leg began to bounce.

What was wrong with you?

Was this the Calling?

You’d never felt this before.

Was it going to get worse?

Were you eventually going to lose control?

**You won’t. Or, at least,** **_I won’t_ ** **. I won’t let you fall into that mountain, no matter what your body tries to do.**

A memory came, unbidden. The sensation of making love with them, their voice just as hard and desperate as yours.

How could they say they wouldn’t lose control when they just  _ had _ ?

**I…I…**

You shivered.

Oh, God, if your friend didn’t know if they could keep the heat at bay, how could you stand a chance?

**We’ll have help.**

You felt the bubbles of panicked laughter rise up and spill out before you could stop them.

You hoped they didn’t mean Sans and Papyrus.

Because if the way you had howled their names under the effect of the moonlight was any indication of how they might  _ help _ you...

**Maybe…maybe it doesn’t mean anything more than you trusting them.**

You buried your head in your hands, gripping your hair roughly. The scratches and scrapes you’d given yourself in your wildness throbbed angrily. Your arm muscles spasmed.

**I know. It was a nice thought, though.**

You bent over yourself, the hollow dread in your chest making you feel sick.

You groaned low in your throat.

What was wrong with you?

And more importantly...what were you going to do about it?

**The only thing we can do is try to outlast it. It can’t continue like this forever.**

You looked up through the fall of your hair, eyes sore and tired.

The moon writhed.

Shook with laughter.

And you watched it, helpless to look away. 

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the brothers know what is wrong.
> 
> You have no power over my Tumblr!
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> P.S. -- AU of this scene: Sans and Papyrus were watching the whole time, completely frozen, trying to figure out what the hell is happening with the human.


	20. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets let slip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAARGH sorry this took so long! There have been a lot of things getting in the way of this, including a false start and minor plot changes. Good news is, some real horror fun is on the way.
> 
> Warning for mild sexual content.
> 
> And spider boobs.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Papyrus and Sans were just tearing into the throat of a deer when they caught the sound of moans drifting from nearby.

It was Sans who heard it first, lifting his head away from the dead buck they had taken down with ease. Papyrus didn’t seem to notice anything wrong as he continued happily devouring the blood and flesh of the creature. Sans frowned, his brow ridges lowering with concentration as he turned his head in the direction of the sounds. Was there a wounded human nearby or—

Oh.

Hah.

_ No _ , those weren’t cries of  _ pain _ .

He grimaced with slight disgust as he realised there must be humans mating nearby. He could only hear one of them, though, and they were  _ loud _ . Sans debated with himself what he should do. He was still supposed to be gathering males for the Reaping until the end of the Cycle, but he wasn’t sure if he should waste the energy. He would have to take the male back to Underground and inform Muffet of the female he had left behind. It all seemed a bit pointless now, if he was being honest with himself.

He supposed he could just drain the male and leave the body.

But if he did that, he would have to explain to Frisk why he smelled so strongly of blood once she woke up.

He wasn’t sure why the thought of doing that made him so hesitant.

He decided it was easier to blame it on his apathy than to examine that motive too closely.

Still, he felt he  _ should _ at least give the humans a scare. What kind of idiots were they, copulating in the forest?

Papyrus finally seemed to notice Sans’s distraction, looking up at him with a bit of muscle dangling from his mouth and blood smeared across his cheekbones.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry?”

He gestured with bloodied fingers in the direction of the increasingly desperate moans and gasps. “I’m plenty hungry, I just, uh—I’m a little  _ distracted _ .”

Papyrus frowned with confusion for a moment, looking to where he had gestured. Then it dawned on him, and he made a wheezing, rasping laugh. “Oh, my goodness, I didn’t even notice!” he said, his voice comically low, as though trying not to interrupt.

Sans couldn’t help his own laugh. “What do you think we should do?”

Papyrus tilted his head, dropping the deer as he stood up straight. He seemed to be listening intently. Sans shifted uncomfortably. There was something about the woman’s moaning that was forcing him to listen—to  _ pay attention _ . He shook his head, feeling slightly sick with himself.

Since when was he interested in human sex?

Then he saw the pulsing of Papyrus’s eyes, the intensity in them reminding Sans of how he looked at—

— _ Oh _ .

The woman’s voice definitely sounded like Frisk’s.

“Sans, do you think that sounds like—”

“Yeah.”

“Do you suppose she really is…” Papyrus threw a look at him, confused and slightly hurt. “… _ out _ here?”

Sans shook his head again. “No. Why would she be? Her ‘friend’ said she would be sleeping for a while.”

“But—”

“ _ Please, Chara—I need you _ !”

Sans saw Papyrus’s spine snap ramrod straight just as his own did the same. His eyes widened, mirroring his brother’s expression across from him.

That was—

There was really no mistaking that for anyone other than Frisk. She had such a distinctive voice; soft and low and strong.

And that was definitely her crying out while in the throes of passion.

…Wasn’t it?

Who else could it be?

But no, she wouldn’t be so reckless. She knew that Muffet was prowling about. She wouldn’t practically give herself to the monster by doing something silly like having sex in the forest.

Who would she even be with?

Sans knew there were very few men left in the Home. That was likely why she’d ended up serving as a guard in the first place. And those that remained could hardly be seen as paragons of masculine charm.

What did it matter who she was with.

If it  _ was _ her.

Was Chara even a man’s name?

It sounded very feminine.

There  _ were _ plenty of women in the Home.

Had she stolen away with one in the short time since they’d left? Why would she, though? And in the  _ forest _ for pity’s sake?

To be fair, he’d seen plenty of other humans steal away to the forest to have fun.

He just hadn’t pinned Frisk as someone who would even think to do something like that. She was always blushing at the smallest of touches from his brother. 

Maybe it wasn’t her after all.

That—that was probably it.

“S-Sans,” Papyrus whispered finally, breaking the intensely heavy silence that had fallen between them as the moaning came to a climax before falling away abruptly. “What should we do?”

“Uh.”

Sans had no idea. He had been ready to go scare the poor, stupid humans out of their skin when he’d thought they were just strangers, but if there was even a small chance it was Frisk, then he  _ absolutely _ could not bring himself to do it. If he did, and he saw her wrapped in the arms of her human lover, he knew he wouldn’t be happy.

Or, well, that was probably putting it lightly.

Because she was  _ supposed _ to be with th—

Papyrus.

She was supposed to be with  _ Papyrus _ .

“Should we just leave? They seemed to have finished their, ah—their—they’ve finished.”

Sans shook himself from his stupor, nodding and muttering, “I don’t think we should stick around. I would—I would go collect them, but—”

“You don’t have to convince me, Sans,” Papyrus responded, before turning and bounding away, clinging to a low-hanging tree branch to get himself higher. Sans grabbed the deer’s hind leg, following after one more glance in the direction the moans had come from. 

He and Papyrus trudged towards the Home once more, Papyrus leaping between trees beside him. They were both quiet for a long time, Sans’s mind circling around what he had heard. He was getting very confused with his body’s reactions as it alternated between anger at the thought of another human using Frisk like that and bone-trembling arousal at the thought of her screaming  _ his _ name instead.

And layered on top of it all was a disgusting curiosity, a sickening desire to see her in such an intimate situation, no matter who she was with.

The memory of her sprawled against his brother, smiling at him with heavily-lidded eyes came unbidden. He remembered the impulse he’d had, then. The impulse to stride forward and take both of them in his arms, holding them close to his chest. Keeping them safe. Telling her how much he wanted—

Sans could actually  _ hear _ his bones grinding against each other as he tensed.

That wasn’t something he should be thinking about.

He— _ couldn’t _ .

He absolutely wasn’t going to admit—to himself or anyone else—to the seed of attraction that had been planted in his soul.

He was just going to crush it down and ignore it. Because he was  _ not _ going to ruin Papyrus’s chance at happiness just because he was curious. 

Not to mention the strain it would put on the loose alliance he had made with Frisk’s ‘friend.’

He snorted mentally. Alliance. Really, it was more like an agreement to not kill each other. They hadn’t spoken much after Frisk had been put to sleep. Her friend had been reluctant to discuss more than the basics. Before he and Papyrus had left to hunt, they had only exchanged a few meaningless facts, such as how they were also allied with the matron, and roughly how many monsters were in Underground. Frisk’s friend had demanded to know if they were planning on defecting fully from their master, or if they were going to play spy.

Neither Sans nor Papyrus could answer that. They only knew that they wanted out of their situation, considering they were both slaves to the whim of the Master.

Frisk’s friend had responded with a stern and subtle threat that Frisk would not take kindly to the knowledge that they were keeping their options open. They had assured the brothers that they didn’t mind, really, as it was in their nature as well. But if Frisk were to find out they were even considering betraying them...

They had left it at that, and Sans had had to hold back a laugh.

He had been incredibly amused at the thought of  _ Frisk _ posing them any threat whatsoever, considering how easily he had scared her before. Even  _ with  _ her friend possessing her. But her friend—who  _ still _ refused to give him any name to refer to them by—had assured him that Frisk had merely allowed him to get so close, even disobeying them in the process.

He had lost his hold on his laughter, then, thinking of Frisk attempting to hurt him or Papyrus.

It wasn’t that he thought Frisk was weak. Because it was obvious she was a hardy human, with painfully strong determination. It took strength to face him head-on when he was angry, as she had. And for her to admit her own shortcomings and fear for the three of them had been impressive to him. He hadn’t expected her to actually say it straight to them. He had expected the vague, side-stepping sort of talk he had gotten from her before.

It was just that he knew  _ he  _ was stronger.

It had definitely affected his feelings for her, though. Which was frustrating for him, when he was largely wanted her and her friend to be a way out for him and his brother’s slavery.  At least, that’s what he wanted to believe of himself.

Sans was so confused.

He had thought that, by talking to Papyrus about everything that had happened between him and Frisk after he had left, he would have successfully worked the unwelcome, creeping feelings out of his soul. He had promised himself, while holding Papyrus and listening to him talk himself through his hurt, that he would never seriously consider acting on the niggling thoughts. That he would never be the cause of hurt and confusion like this for his brother.

That it didn’t matter how his soul ached to touch and mingle with hers.

It wasn’t like it was really  _ his _ feelings for her, anyway.

It was just the compulsion.

The sound of her laughter—the way she challenged him on everything—the look she gave him as she bared herself to him—her soul pulsing strong and fast and opening completely to him—the passion between them when he confessed his own fear—how close he had come to drawing her soul out and holding it to his, just to comfort her, to stop the hurt in her eyes—

That—that was all the compulsion.

…Right?

Sans heard the deer’s bone snapping in his hand before he realised how tense he’d gotten.

Papyrus looked down at him with understanding in his eyes. “I know how you feel, brother.”

Sans hoped he didn’t actually know what he had been feeling.

“The thought upsets me, too.”

Sans could feel his soul clenching with dread. “Why—why would you think it upset me?”

Papyrus narrowed his eyes at Sans over his shoulder, swinging to another tree and crouching low over the branch. “Sans, I wish you’d stop trying to convince yourself that I don’t know you well enough to see what’s bothering you.”

Sans stopped dead, looking up at Papyrus.

“It doesn’t make you weak, you know. To be close to someone.”

Sans stared at his brother, his soul heating and spreading warmth through his bones. Did he know? Did he think Sans was betraying him?

Sans never got the chance to respond, though, because there was a mighty crash and thud. Sans turned to the monster that had leapt to the forest floor just in front of them. 

Muffet. 

The spider woman twisted her body so that her human-like hands were braced against her furry spider’s abdomen She smiled wide, showing Sans and Papyrus her rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth as her legs stamped on the ground excitedly.

Sans only glared back, and he was certain Papyrus was, as well. Neither of them had ever particularly liked Muffet, despite her relation to Alphys and her…  _ children _ . Both of them had their reasons for it. Sans had never liked how clingy and sweet she tried to be. Papyrus wasn’t bothered by that, but he did have a problem with the way she tried to manipulate monsters into being her friend.

They had both made their truces with her, but nevertheless Sans wasn’t happy to see her, considering how she had hunted Frisk. They hadn’t seen her since the incident, but Sans knew she had been spreading the news to the rest of Underground. The looks they had gotten from everyone was enough to confirm that much.

“Hello, boys,” Muffet simpered, her naked breasts pressed between her arms as she leaned forward. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“We don’t have time for you, Muffet,” Papyrus deadpanned, his fingers digging into the tree branch.

“What do you want?” Sans asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. He gestured to her nakedness. “Is it a  _ shirt _ , maybe?”

Muffet giggled, rolling her shoulders enough to make her breasts bounce side-to-side. “Why would I want that, silly? It’s the Waking Moon.  _ Everyone’s _ out enjoying themselves.”

Sans couldn’t help the slight twitch of his mouth and the glance up at the moon.  _ Shit.  _ It  _ was _ time for the Awakening already. How could he have forgotten?  “Everyone?”

“ _ Everyone _ ,” Muffet repeated, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder and smirking. Her back legs were giving a little flick-and-hop and Sans could tell he wasn’t going to enjoy what she had to say. “I’m actually surprised at you two. I thought you would have joined in with your pet human’s… _ playtime _ .”

The branch that Papyrus was on snapped and he went tumbling to the ground, landing hard on his hands and feet. Sans made to go to him, but he was already standing, his hands flexing as though he would like to throttle Muffet. “What are you talking about? What did you see?”

Muffet arched her back, dancing with barely-restrained pleasure. “You know, I’m just not  _ sure _ , Papyrus. It  _ looked _ like your little human girl cavorting in the moonlight, but I couldn’t quite tell in the dark. She might have been with someone. But I’m not sure about that either,” she hissed with laughter, leaning down to bare her teeth at Papyrus in a mad smile. “ _ I just couldn’t tell _ .”

Papyrus made a lunge for Muffet’s neck, but she skittered away, leaping high enough to clamber into the treetops. She shrieked with giggles the whole time, calling back at them before disappearing in the dark,

“You ought to take better care of your belongings, boys—we’ve all got our eye on your sweet little pet!”

Sans glared at the space Muffet had disappeared into, his magic building behind his chest. He wanted so badly to follow her and show her exactly what he’d do to anyone who threatened his brother  _ or _ his human again.

But they had more important things to think about now.

Like the fact that Muffet had practically confirmed that the woman they had heard had been Frisk.

And that she hadn’t been the only monster watching her.

He turned his eyes to Papyrus, who was breathing hard and fast, his back turned. Sans closed the distance between them and clapped a hand to his brother’s shoulder to get his attention. Papyrus let out a long whining growl, shaking himself as if to get rid of a bad feeling. Finally, he looked to Sans.

“I c-c-completelyyyy f-forgoooot what daaaay it was,” Papyrus stuttered and moaned, shaking his head violently. His eyes turned to the moon, pulsing hard in their sockets. “Sans,” he said, his voice dropping to a shaky whisper. “Wh-who do you thiiink she was wiiiith?”

Sans ground his teeth together. “No one, ‘Pyrus. It probably wasn’t Frisk. You know that Muffet likes to lie to you just to get a reaction.”

“Do…do you think it was that—that  _ BOY _ —”

Papyrus’s sudden snarl and flare of magic sent a shock through Sans. He hadn’t really heard his brother so angry in a long time. Papyrus was incredibly slow to anger, and even harder to incite to violence, but when it happened, he never let the feeling go. Sans had thought Papyrus was going to kill the young man when they’d come to Frisk’s room and found him yelling at her and shaking her like a rag doll.

Truthfully, he’d thought about it himself, as well. But he’d trusted his brother to take care of things. Papyrus was much better at controlling himself in a violent situation than Sans.

Sans tended to kill first and  _ then _ assess the situation.

So he was acting with uncharacteristic consideration when he told Papyrus, “It— _ probably _ wasn’t him, ‘Pyrus. Even if that  _ was _ Frisk, she was…she was, uh… _ with _ someone named Chara.”

Papyrus was completely still for a few moments before nodding and dropping to all fours. “Okay. You’re right. We’re better off just asking her.”

Before Sans could say any more, Papyrus had already taken off in a sprint, covering ground faster than usual. Sans looked up at the Waking Moon, larger and more swollen in the sky than usual. Its red face seemed to exude an air of amusement, as though it knew what was happening and was supremely tickled.

Sans scowled at it.

He had to take a shortcut to catch up to Papyrus, who had already nearly reached the open window on the ground floor that marked Frisk’s room. He stepped through the void to come out just beside her window, waiting for Papyrus to close the distance between them before giving a quick knuckle-rap on the windowsill.

“I-I’m here. I’m awake,” came Frisk’s soft voice, shaking and hesitant. She sounded nervous. And…out of breath? Sans frowned slightly as Papyrus hopped over the sill, and he followed through a shortcut. As soon as he caught sight of her, sitting there on her bed fully dressed and looking back at him with big, worried eyes, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

So it hadn’t been her after all.

“Back from the dead?” he asked with a small smile. “Do you feel any…better…”

Sans had trailed off as he caught a hint of the strong scent that filled the room.

He took a deep breath through his nose—

—and froze, panic striking his soul.

It was Frisk.

The… _ smell _ of her.

He could barely think straight.

She smelled so— _ so _ sweet and musky and  _ warm _ . Like a lily opening its petals to the warm summer sun, sweet nectar glistening on the anthers in the morning light. He wanted to bury himself in her softness, drink from her, look her in the eyes as he worshipped her.

His soul was aching in his chest, ready to summon his magic for her.

He desperately wanted her, and by the sweet, painfully sexual smell he couldn’t stop breathing in as though it were made just for him, he knew she wanted him, too.

He realised he was backing away when the heels of his shoes hit the wall. Frisk was staring up at him with a quickly flushing face and pleading eyes, her knees pressed together.

“F-Frisk? Are you o-okay?” 

Papyrus. He had completely lost track of reality in that single moment, forgetting that his brother did not have as good of a sense of smell as he did. Especially when he was already distracted.

“We—we heard s-something out in—out in the w-woods. It sounded like— _ oh _ ,” Papyrus’s normally whispery voice went soft as he approached Frisk. He swayed towards her, his eyes dilating as their gazes met. She was breathing heavily, her lips parting and her eyes half-closing. Her arms were reaching up for Papyrus as he leaned down to her, though she didn’t look fully in control of herself.

The thought sent a jolt through him just as a soft light began to emerge from Frisk’s chest.

Oh,  _ fuck _ , she  _ wasn’t _ in control of herself, was she?

This was the Awakening.

She was in  _ heat _ .

And apparently it had chosen  _ them  _ instead of other humans.

“Papyrus, don’t!”

His command rang out loud enough to snap his brother and Frisk out of their daze, and they leapt away from each other. Papyrus retreated next to him, trembling in the corner with his hands over his ribs and chest. Frisk was in much the same position, though she was against the opposite wall, breathing hard and shaking violently, her eyes snapping between the both of them wildly.

Sans held his hands out to both of them, his own bones feeling very weak. Condensation had begun to bead on his skull with the heat flushing his bones.

“Okay,” he said, trying for a calm voice. It seemed to have the opposite effect on Frisk for a brief moment. Her eyes went blank again and he thought he heard the faintest of sighs, but then she brought herself back with a shake of the head. “Okay. Now. We just need to…to have a quick, friendly talk.” He looked between Papyrus and Frisk, and was pleased that they both had their eyes on him and seemed to be calming down for it. Now he just needed to get himself under control. “Because otherwise, we’ll all end up doing something we’ll regret later.”

Frisk nodded, her hands grasping at her shirt. Sans watched her with hungry eyes, thinking of how easily he could rip that shirt right off of her petite body and replace her hands with his tongue.

_ No _ , dammit all, he was supposed to be the  _ calm one _ !

“I—I agree. I wasn’t—quite ready for—for  _ being _ with you, Frisk. I’m s-sorry if i-it ssseemed th-that way,” Papyrus said, rambling slightly in his panic. Sans held his hand out to his brother, and was glad when he took it, giving it a brief squeeze before they parted again. It helped ground him slightly, and he knew it would have had a similar effect on Papyrus. “I—I’m n-not sss-sure what came o-over me. I a-apologise.”

Frisk shook her head, her eyes wide as saucers. “No, it’s quite alright, Papyrus,” she said, her voice nearly at a whisper. “I apologise, too—to both of you. I was not expecting to—to lose control like that.” She stood up a little straighter, her eyes finding Sans’s. Sans had to stop himself from reaching out to comfort her. That would be the worst possible thing he could do just then. “Thank you for stopping us.”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and clenching them tight. “Don’t mention it.”

“ **You** **_were_ ** **awfully quick on the mark, teddy bear** ,” Frisk’s friend remarked after a brief moment where Frisk looked away. Sans felt his brow ridges lower. They had been calling him pet names like that all night, no matter how many times he told them not to. They just giggled and said okay, only to do it again not a moment later. “ **I don’t suppose that means** **_you_ ** **know what this is? We’ve figured it must be part of the Calling, and have tried to adjust our approach accordingly, but we’re obviously not as well-versed with your master’s tricks as you are.** ”

Sans frowned, even though he was glad for the distraction. Frisk’s smell had not dissipated one bit. It was making him a little dizzy, trying to ignore it and focus on the problem at hand.

“You’re sounding kind of tired, there, friend,” he said, trying and failing to not sound amused.

“Sans, please take this seriously,” Papyrus scolded, still tucked into his corner, though he had his eyes narrowed at Sans. Sans shrugged and smiled apologetically. “Even if  _ we _ are used to dealing with compulsion, Frisk is obviously uncomfortable right now.”

Sans grunted, not liking the feeling of being chastised. Still, he grumbled out an apology to Frisk, his eyes averted.

“ **That’s right, silly, you should mind your manners. There are** **_ladies_ ** **present.** ”

Sans’s eyes shot up to glare at Frisk, even though he knew it hadn’t been  _ her _ . He looked away again almost immediately, growling slightly with frustration.

“Ignore them, please,” Frisk’s quiet voice came, shaking with obvious strain. Sans couldn’t help but meet her eyes, his gaze softening. “They’re just frustrated because they are struggling to keep me from losing control. We—we don’t want that to happen again.”

“ _ Again _ ?” Sans asked automatically, wanting to curse when he saw the shame in Frisk’s eyes.

Oh.

So it  _ had  _ been her.

But wait, if she’d been out in the forest…

“O-of  _ course _ , Frisk, we don’t want you to lose control, either,” Papyrus was saying as Sans’s mind began to put clues together rapidly. “We know how awful the Awakening can be. It’s—it’s a version of the same compulsion  _ we _ feel. It a-affects humans a little differently, though. Most of th-the time, they simply crave violence o-or—or, you know. B-but usually it’s with  _ other  _ hu-humans. Not with—ah. Not with  _ monsters _ .”

“A version of the one you feel?” Frisk asked, her fingers running along something underneath her shirt. She seemed to be tracing a heart. “You mean—you mean, your master  _ makes _ you…?”

Papyrus was nodding, and Sans saw him look his way out of the corner of his eye. He was too busy thinking to pay much mind.

“Ah, yes, our m-master has a n-natural  _ draw _ that can b-be used on w-weaker monsters and humans. B-but…for all… _ others _ …the Master f-feeds us a concoction called m-manna. It...forces us...to do things,” Papyrus explained. 

Sans hadn’t heard a second person in the forest.

“It—it creates a sort of  _ bond _ between us monsters and the Master. It g-gives the master a s-sort of— _ influence _ —on the monster’s soul. If the master wants a monster to d-do something— _ anything _ —th-then the monster  _ must _ do it. O-or undergo extreme dis-discomfort orrrr p-pain. But the symptoms sh-shouldn’t be quite as bad f-for  _ you _ , since the Waking Moon marks th-the second part of the Blood Cycle. Th-the compulsion for you shouldn’t last after it’s over.”

It could have been a very quiet human, of course.

“ **I’m not sure that’s comforting, considering how difficult it has been to keep us in control for a few hours. I’m definitely going to need blood if we’ve two weeks of this to survive through. What is this manna made of, anyway?** ”

But that was unlikely.

“It-it’s a m-mixture of blood a-and magic.”

Humans were usually quite noisy when copulating, even if it was just their increased breath. 

“ **So** **_that’s_ ** **why you are sent out to collect humans. Blood, for the manna.** ”

Or heartbeats.

“W-well, yes, that is  _ one _ of the reasons why Sans must collect males.”

There hadn’t been another heartbeat out there with Frisk.

“ **What’s the other reason?** ”

He could see Papyrus shifting uncomfortably next to him, but his mind was absolutely racing, charging ahead to the natural conclusion of his observations.

“For—for the women. To, ah…to…”

“To  _ breed _ ,” Frisk breathed out, blanching as she finished Papyrus’s sentence for him.

Frisk had been calling out  _ someone’s  _ name though—someone named Chara.

“I’m afraid so, yes,” Papyrus mumbled, wincing.

“ **Why would you need** **_infants_ ** **if you already have blood from the adults? What is the end goal of your master?** ”

Such a strange name—one that he had  _ never _ heard before. It sounded old.  _ Very old _ .

“I—I’m sorry, but even  _ I _ don’t know that.”

Sans could only think of one person whom Frisk would be with who had no heartbeat, was confident enough to protect her while in a forest full of monsters, and also guarded their name as though it were a source of power.

“ **Who** **_does_ ** **know?** ”

“What’s it worth to you?”

Frisk’s eyes snapped to Sans when he asked the question, clear and direct. He couldn’t help himself—he was smiling.

“What do you—”

“No, Frisk, I wasn’t talking to  _ you _ . I meant, what is that information worth to  _ Chara _ ?”

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =O
> 
> Next up: terms, and a visit.
> 
> Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring
> 
> TUMBLR PHONE
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	21. What's In a Name? Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Names are important. Keep them safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO BOY you's all got a real doozy ahead of you. It didn't go as originally planned, so uh...surprise? What you were expecting did not happen?
> 
> Have fun, my bromides.

A deathly silence fell over the room.

As soon as Sans spoke your friend’s name, you could feel the blood drain from your face. How had he figured it out? It wasn’t like you had given any hints or—

You stood shaking, your body rapidly switching between intense heat and rolling chills. You felt like you had influenza, including the pressing need to vomit.

_ He had heard you _ .

Oh, God. 

He must have been in the forest when you and your friend were…when you…

Oh, dear Lord in Heaven.

Had Papyrus heard you too?

You tore your gaze from the floor, forcing yourself to look in Papyrus’s eyes. You had to know.

He met your eyes before looking away, the lights in his sockets pulsing fast.

Oh,  _ bollocks _ , he  _ had _ !

They had  _ both  _ heard you.

With that thought came a decidedly unwelcome wave of arousal, strong enough to make you take a step away from the brothers.

Sans’s smile faltered.

**Frisk, please try to focus.**

You clenched your hand even tighter around the heart pendant, your eyes wide as you looked between the brothers. You reminded your friend that it wasn’t just them who was in deep, now.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Sans. I thought we were simply exchanging information between friends,” you said innocently, trying your hand at playing coy.

Sans and Papyrus were both very quiet. Sans was looking at you with suspicious eyes and Papyrus was obviously nervous as he watched his brother.

“Were we? Because as far as I could tell, it was mostly  _ them _ interrogating my brother,” Sans finally said, his voice gruff. Just as every other time the brothers had spoken that night, your stomach clenched with heat that your friend had to immediately rein in. You only felt the flush of warmth along your face and not the immediate and frustrating arousal that accompanied it. “So what I’m telling them is—no more free information.”

“That’s hardly fair of you,” you cut in before your friend could get themself angry at Sans’s threatening tone, “considering you’re simply assuming that knowing my friend’s name somehow gives you power over them.”

You hoped that Sans would somehow miraculously be convinced of the uselessness of knowing your friend’s name, but you knew that was a pipe-dream. Especially considering how much effort he had put into figuring it out in the first place. Sure enough, your hopes were immediately dashed when Sans’s smirk spread across his face and his brow ridges raised.

“I’d say it’s more than an assumption. Considering we heard you screaming the name out in the forest with no one else around,” Sans said bluntly, causing Papyrus to flinch and give you an apologetic look.

**He’s a real clever bastard. It’ll be good to have him on our side after we sort this out.**

You reluctantly agreed, slightly annoyed nevertheless. If it wasn’t for the moon’s influence, you were sure Sans would never have found out. You felt like it was somehow your fault.

**Sweetheart, it’s really more that he’s forced** **_my_ ** **hand instead of gaining an advantage.**

You weren’t sure if that was any better.

**Maybe not for** **_him_ ** **.**

You smiled at that, which seemed to throw Sans again. You trusted your friend to know what to do. So when they drifted further from your heart, requesting use of your whole body, you readily relinquished control.

You quickly adjusted to the vaguely floaty feeling that washed over your senses when your friend had full control over your body. It was like being  submerged in a large body of water, just floating peacefully within the arms of nature. You could hardly even feel the compulsion pulling at you anymore. You wondered if they would be alright to take control without having hunted recently.

**I’ll be fine for now. This needs to be done for our safety.**

“ **Okay, sweetie,** ” your friend said aloud, lifting your hands in a casual shrug as your lips curled in a smirk. “ **You caught me. You win.** **You were just too smart for us.** ” Your friend held your hands out in Sans’s direction, speaking in a benevolent voice as you took a step toward the brothers. “ **Now that you know my name, you and Papyrus can use my power for whatever you need. Just name it.** ”

Sans’s eyes narrowed, darting from you to your hands to your feet, then back up again. You felt oddly proud at the sight. He was looking for a  _ weapon _ , despite not knowing what he was dealing with.

**I did say that he’ll be a good ally.**

Sans’s eyes bored into yours and you found yourself studying his blood-covered face through the slightly removed position you were in. He was edging back towards Papyrus, clearly trying to physically come between you and your friend and his brother.

Whether he didn’t want Papyrus to be subjected to the allure of your heat or because he thought your friend was going to become violent, the action gave you a sickening pause. He was trying to protect his brother from  _ you _ .

**Don’t worry, poppet. I won’t torture him for long.**

“I—” Sans croaked low in his throat, before standing straighter and trying again. “You already know what we want. We’re trapped. We want to be free. Now that I have leverage, I want you to actually help us, instead of just using us for your own vendetta. I just warned you against doing that.”

Your friend hummed pleasantly, taking another seemingly casual step closer. “ **That’s it? That’s all you want from me, with all the power of an Old God at your disposal?** ”

Both of the brothers’ eyes went wide, the lights dimming with what you thought must be fear. You’d never seen them with that look before, and to see them so worried made your heart hurt. You didn’t want to scare them. You were supposed to be allies.

Friends.

“O-Old God?” Papyrus stammered, his voice high and faint. “Y-you’re not…?”

“ **A demon? Fae? A spirit? No, darling, I’m afraid not.** ”

“Th-then why a-are you in…in Frisk?” Papyrus whispered, stepping around Sans to face you fully. You were incredibly pleased that he was either trusting enough or brave enough to take a step closer, despite Sans’s hand on his arm. “I-if you are what you say you are, wh-why are with her?”

You felt your face crinkle into a wide smile before a laugh burst from you. “ **It feels nice to be so close, don’t you think?** ” Your head tilted as you took another step closer. “ **Does your master not inhabit you?** ”

Papyrus shook his head. “Not anymore. But even when the Master was inside my head, or when the Master invades Sans…it is only a voice. Compulsions. There’s no—no  _ real _ closeness. It’s only... _ manipulation _ .”

“ _ Papyrus _ ,” Sans scolded, scowling at his brother. Papyrus just frowned back at him.

“ **What’s wrong, Sans?** ” your friend asked softly, smiling wide enough to cramp your cheeks. You were only a single step away from standing directly in front of the brothers. Sans was leaning away, looking incredibly nervous, but Papyrus seemed like he would be happy to be closer. You wondered if that was because of the heat or if he was simply too curious to be afraid. “ **Worried that I’m not going to honour your wish to be free if Papyrus shares information?** ”

“I don’t trust you at all, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sans muttered, switching his scowl to you. You could see him breathing heavily, but slow, and you got the feeling he was trying very hard to keep himself under control as you approached.

“ **I’m hurt. I’m nothing if not faithful to my promises.** ” You reached your hands out to him, your eyes opening wide as your lips parted in a toothy, overexcited smile. You could see shadows gathering at your arms, crawling from your chest to pool at your hands, writhing and wriggling chaotically. “ **I said I would free you. And free you I shall. I will be your sanctuary, your safety net for when you fall from your master’s favour. Let me in, and I will be whatever you need.** ”

Sans was pressed hard against the wall, now, his eyes clearly afraid of the magic dripping from your skin. Papyrus, however, merely looked curious still, his eyes regarding you calmly.

“ _ What is that _ ?” Sans exclaimed, his deep voice shaking as a rich, vibrant red light began to pulse in his eyes. “Get back, Papyrus!”

You had the sudden, desperate urge to comfort him. You knew what your friend was doing. They had done the exact same to you when you were in pain and needing a home. You had accepted them eagerly, of course. But then,  _ you _ hadn’t been traumatised by magic. You could understand that to Sans—someone who had been under the thumb of a powerful being for God-knew how long—this unknown magic might as well have been an attack.

You felt your heart pressing hard against your chest as you forced yourself through your friend’s presence just enough to whisper,

“Don’t—be—afraid.”

“Frisk?” Papyrus asked, his eyes sharp on yours as you retreated back to your comfortable floating space. You nursed the ache in your consciousness that forcing yourself through had caused. Your eyes turned to Papyrus and you felt your body shift along. “Are you saying that this is a good thing?”

You asked your friend to nod, please.

They obliged.

“Papyrus, you don’t know that they aren’t just faking Frisk’s voice!” Sans said hoarsely, clinging to his brother and hauling him back. Papyrus shook him off, though, planting himself firmly in front of you. His eyes stared deeply in yours, as though he was searching for a sign of you inside. Sans stayed back, looking desperate and scared for Papyrus. His eyes were throbbing fast, and you could tell he wanted to use his magic against you.

Your heart was racing, thumping hard as though it fought to get free. You could feel something inside Papyrus reaching for you as he stared straight through you, but the sheer pressure of the shadow magic on your body kept the situation under control.

“Chara, is this really the way to be free?” Papyrus asked, his voice soft and serious, determination clear in his eyes.

“ **It is the easiest way, yes.** ”

“What are you going to do?”

You could feel your friend reaching for the proper words to describe the act. “ **It is a pact. By taking my mark, you are promised to me. And I am sworn to protect you. It is very similar to the…arrangement I have with Frisk, only less intimate.** ”

“I would hope so,” Papyrus quipped without missing a beat, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. You couldn’t help the flutter of nervous laughter that ran through you.

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” Sans practically gasped. He looked less afraid now that he knew what the magic was, but he was still very obviously wary. “We’re not going to get under  _ their _ thumb just to escape another’s!”

“You might not,” Papyrus responded, glancing back at his brother with narrow eyes. “But I trust Frisk. If she says I shouldn’t be afraid, then I won’t be. Because really— _ how much worse _ could this be? Look at you—you’re shaking from compulsion and terrified of even  _ considering _ the help despite you demanding it only a moment before! All because of the Master’s influence on you.”

“Papyrus…” Sans murmured, shaking his head. “Please, it’s not like that. I just don’t want us to get hurt again.”

“Sans, you can’t keep doing this. Sooner rather than later, you’re going to need manna again, and what will you do then? Are you going to keep up this cycle of self-denial and disappointment? Or are you going to take your chance to break out?” Papyrus was trembling softly, and you thought it must be because of the power of the emotion in his words. “I know what  _ my _ choice is.  You need to decide what you want more. A past where you know what hell awaits you, or a future that might be so much better, if you only take the chance.” He gave Sans a long, hard look, before turning back to you and saying almost as an afterthought, “At least Chara  _ seems _ friendly.”

“ **Oh, I’d be** **_very_ ** **friendly to you, Papyrus,** ” your friend said, a giggle falling from their lips. You saw Sans looking deflated and visibly shaken as Papyrus seemed slightly taken aback by your friend’s flirting, though he still smiled shyly. Your heart fluttered again, and you wanted so badly to press your lips to that smile.

“Then—if you’re willing—I accept your offer, Chara.” Papyrus held his hands out to you and your friend took them, clamping their shadows  hard around your heart. Still, even through that, you could feel the intense desire to drag Papyrus close, closer, until you sank into him and he sank into you and you could not tell where you ended and he began. “Is—is it going to h-hurt?” he asked, a brief moment of nervousness crossing his features.

Your heart  _ ached _ for him.

“ **No, sweetheart. I promise it will be quite the opposite.** ”

Papyrus deliberated for only a moment before he nodded. “Okay. Please, help me be free from the Master.”

A satisfied sigh fell from your mouth and the shadows began crawling from your hands to his, sliding along and caressing his bones as you stared in each other’s eyes.

“ **_My pleasure_ ** **.** ”

“No— _ don’t _ !” Sans pleaded, reaching for both of you, seemingly willing to risk himself if it meant he could stop Papyrus from bonding with your friend.

“ **Wait your** **_turn_ ** **, honey,** ” your friend said, tearing one hand away from Papyrus to hold it out to Sans, warning him off. Your friend was distracted for just long enough that neither they nor you noticed Papyrus sliding his hand against your cheek and directing your gaze towards his. You were jolted to life by the sudden, and wholly unexpected feeling of his sharp, toothy mouth pressing softly to your lips.

_ Oh _ .

Oh,  _ yes _ .

You gasped as your friend pulled their control away suddenly with a indulgent laugh, throwing your senses into sharp relief. You were warm all over and breathless at Papyrus’s sweet, chaste kiss of bone on lips, your heart hammering against your ribcage. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you close against him as he bent to reach your mouth. You stood on your tiptoes and clasped your hands around the back of his neck, pressing your chest against his ribcage. 

You could feel the shadows around your heart wavering and weakening. Your body began to overheat. A moan rose in your throat as your knees trembled with the effort to not pull him down on top of you onto the bed. Just as you were about to part your lips and lick the excess blood from his teeth, Papyrus was ripped away from you. His back hit the wall beside the window as your eyes flew open, your heart immediately crying out for his touch again. You reached your arms out to him, but your friend held you back as Sans put himself between you and Papyrus. His eyes blazed bright in their sockets as he growled low, the sound resonating in your chest.

“ _How_ _dare you_ take advantage of them when they’re so vulnerable.”

You keened softly as your friend slipped back into control. The process tore through some of the barrier between you, as you were reluctant to give up control. You could feel a thick, aching pain at your temple. A trickle of blood fell from your nose and down across your lips as your friend attempted to bring your breath back under control. Papyrus was staring hungrily at you over Sans’s shoulder, the beat of his eyes matching your heartbeat.

**There will be time for more of that later—there’s a very angry brother to deal with now.**

You shuddered with your frustration and loss, but finally got yourself back under control with the help of the shadows locked around your heart. You wondered if your friend had had enough time to claim Papyrus.

**I did. He’s…** **_interesting_ ** **.**

You did not doubt that one bit.

“ **I think you’re confused, dear,** ” your friend said to Sans quietly and evenly, shaking their head once. “ **None of this is me** **_taking advantage_ ** **. That seems to be more your business, considering your immediate thought after learning my name was to take advantage of** **_us_ ** **.** ”

Sans’s eyes burned into yours, and an angry red glow began to creep into his left hand. When he spoke, he sounded just like he had when you had first been captured by Papyrus—loud, deep, commanding.

“Say what you want about me, but you aren’t getting my brother.”

“Sans—” Papyrus tried to cut in, but Sans growled furiously. You reached your consciousness out to speak to him, but you were firmly blocked by your friend.

**Let me handle this, Frisk. He is dangerous right now.**

“No, Papyrus! I won’t let them subjugate us, too! I won’t let it happen again!” Sans cried, his hand shaking as he lifted it slightly, as though to attack.

Your friend giggled.

“ **I don’t know where you got the idea that I** ** _subjugate_** **my followers, but I can assure you, Papyrus is perfectly happy with the situation.** ” They shook your head, giggling again. “ **Silly rabbit. I don’t** ** _need_** **to enslave anyone for them to love me.** ”

“Is that right?” Sans shot back, taking a step closer. Your friend stood their ground, craning your neck to look up at Sans, who was now looming over you. “Then why don’t you let Frisk and Papyrus go?”

Your friend tilted their head slightly in confusion. Sans leaned in close enough to intimidate but still stayed far enough away that he could retreat if necessary. 

“If you don’t  _ need _ to possess Frisk, or to have your ‘mark’ on Papyrus, then  _ let them go _ .”

You and your friend both shared a sudden, sinking dread in the pit of your stomach at the resonance of Sans’s voice. There was something behind it—something gleeful and horrifying. Something  _ wrong _ . You could feel your body trembling with the effort it took to resist the command. Your eyes narrowed in a warning glare.

“ **You are getting into dangerous territory now, little lamb. Perhaps it would be best to turn back before someone gets hurt.** ”

“Sans, stop, I’m perfectly fine! Don’t ask them to do that,” Papyrus cried, shaking his head and squeezing past Sans to stand beside you, holding a hand to your shoulder.

“I’m not  _ asking  _ them,” Sans snarled, the  _ other _ in his voice leaping to the forefront. You quailed with sudden terror. “I’m  _ telling _ you to  _ let them go _ !”

Your body roiled with shudders. When Papyrus felt them under his hand, he made a worried sound, folding you in his arms. Your friend bared your teeth with pained desperation, sharp shadows gathering at your heart and spiking through your skin. You screamed out at the feeling of your friend peeling away from you forcibly. You were surprised to hear it fall from your lips faintly, as though you were very far away. Your vision was wavering, going red as pressure built behind your eyes. 

You were being torn apart.

Your friend bit down hard on your tongue, the pain bad enough that you could feel it through the chaos in your mind.

**Stay with me, Frisk, I won’t go so easily.**

You cried and whimpered as your consciousness began to slip into familiar chaos, pulled in as the walls between you and your friend crumbled. Shadows crawled and consumed and you screamed but nothing came this time—only pain, only drowning, only that dark choking death.

You were falling away.

**_Stay with me, Frisk_ ** **!**

“Sans, Frisk is in pain!”

You could hear Papyrus’s panicked voice calling out from far away, far far far away so far that you weren’t even sure it was him anymore. Was it him? Or was—it—

“ **_Chara, let—them—go_ ** _! _ ”

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You let go.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…Who?

who who who

how how how

ha ha ha

who was that, little lamb? was it your baby? Sweet lovely. Sweet baby little Baby Boy, sweet lovely kisses all on his curls, baby bouncing giggly girlies all pretty in a row all singing all laughing 

 

DEAD

 

now dead now no more pretty no more lovely your fault your fault your fault you stupid girl you made us all cry now we’ll feed you to the fishy fishy sea sea out to sea out to see mother Mother  _ Moth _ er Fucking Whore bitch bitch in heat with her legs spread apart men tearing into her into you eat her up show her you love her you want her she is yours yours no one else no one will have her shh shh mommy he didn’t

      mean

      it

 

 

 please mommy

      help me

 

 

I don’t

Think he loves me

The way he used to

 

 

 

 

 

HE

DOESN’T

 

 

 

 

 

**F**

**FF**

**F R I SKK**

**You**

**have to hel**

**pme**

**Bring you back**

 

 

**You**

**Need**

**to**

 

 

 

 

 

**TAKE**

**CONTROL**

**AGAIN**

 

 

 

 

 

 

Help help help help help me help mee ee eeeee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

H e l p

M e

I 

T h i n k

I

M a y

B e

S o m e o n e

E L S E

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is

Happening

What did I do

_ Take it back SANS TAKE IT BACK _

**Sans you are k I l l I n g h h h h h**

**eeeeeeeeeeeeeee**

What do I d d

doooo

How can I

I TAKE IT BACK

Don’t let her go

Don’t let her die

Tell me How

Please

Please, Chara

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Taaaalk**

**Toooo**

**Heeeerr**

**Keep**

**Her**

**Here**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

frisk i’m sorry

please don’t let go

i didn’t mean to hurt you

i just wanted to help

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I

I k

I kn

I kno

I know

 

 

 

 

 

you did n’t

 

You were

 

scared

 

and confused

 

. . .

 

But I

Don’t know how

To come back

from Where i am now

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s

 So

   Cold

Dark 

  And

     Empty

I’m

 All

   Alone

 

 

 

 

 

 

OR

AM

I ?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hel lo ?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is 

There

Someone

With

Me

?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_There is_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_Now_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_Hello_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_I_ **

**_Found_ **

**_You_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_Heeheehee_ **

**_Heheheh_ **

**_Hahaha_ **

**_Hahaha_ **

**_Heeheehee_ **

**_Hohoho_ **

**_HAHAHAHA_ **

**_Oh_ **

**_Oh_ **

**_Oh_ **

**_Oh_ **

**_Oh_ **

**_HeheHEH_ **

**_heHEH_ **

**_heheHUH_ **

**_HEHehe_ **

**_HUHehehe_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The darkness

Reached

With pale hands

And smiling eyes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you

Were afraid

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Frisk, my child, if you can hear me where you are, then do me a favour and  _ hold still _ .”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You could hear a voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Moth eeerr?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite your fear of being consumed

 

And the pain of being flayed alive

 

 

 

You

Held 

Still

 

 

 

“Chara,  _ sleep now _ .”

 

 

 

 

There was light

 

So

Much

Light

 

A scream

A sigh

And

 

 

You

Were

You

Again

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Mother knows best.
> 
> We gonna rock on to--TUMBLR AVENUE--and then we'll take it higher!
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	22. What's in a Name? Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans didn't mean to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F-F-F-Fan-aaaaaaaart!
> 
>  
> 
> [ Moths to a Flame Skelebros by LeChatSarrat ](http://lechatsarrat.deviantart.com/art/Moths-to-a-Flame-Skelebros-606878243)
> 
>  
> 
> [ Monster Skulls by asylum-teaparty ](http://asylum-teaparty.tumblr.com/post/143932561143/drew-a-coupla-monster-skulls-inspired-by)
> 
>  
> 
> You guys should totally give love and support to these amazing artists OH MAAAAN <3
> 
> SO I'M SORRY IT WAS SUCH A CLIFFHANGER AAAA~
> 
> But here is my penance: a long(ish) chapter full of nothing much HA HA HA SORRRYYYYY -runs off trailing streamers and confetti-
> 
> Also, thank you, everyone, for reading and leaving comments and the kudos! I don't say it nearly constant enough--I love every single one of you. You have made me super happy to be amongst other horror fans!
> 
> <3

“ _ Chara, let—them—go! _ ”

The moment the words left him, Sans knew he had done something horribly wrong.

He had ignored Papyrus’s warnings, despite his brother’s new connection to the god housed within Frisk. He could see with his own eyes that Frisk was in distress. Could smell it on her, through the sweetness of her heat. It was part of the reason he had kept demanding Chara to let go. The bubbling, writhing shadows gathering around Frisk’s soul had him convincing himself that he was succeeding. That Chara was simply going to stop possessing Frisk and take their mark from his brother. He had been so angry—so  _ scared _ —to see them  _ invading _ his brother’s soul through that chaste kiss that he’d acted completely on impulse, wanting nothing more than to make them  _ hurt _ .

But this was wrong.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

Frisk wasn’t just in a little pain because of the separation between her and Chara. 

Her soul was fading.

What was—

What was happening?

No, no,  _ no _ —

She was  _ dying _ .

Cracks were forming all along her greying soul, held together only by the shadowy hands pressed on either side, trembling with the effort. Chara was visibly struggling to keep hold of Frisk, and their shared body was showing the stress. Blood streamed from both of her nostrils and, as Sans watched with horror, her eyes as well. It welled up like tears before spilling over, creating bloody tracks down her cheeks. Her mouth had gone slack after a small cry had escaped, and her eyelids fluttered as her body began to spasm, her knees collapsing suddenly.

Papyrus already had hold of her, catching her easily, but Sans still found himself leaping forward to catch her as well. He cradled a hand behind her head and one at the small of her back as she fell into a dead weight, her legs kicking wildly. Papyrus shifted so that one hand held hers while the other went to her chest, right over her soul.

Sans was  _ terrified _ .

“What is—what’s  _ happening _ ?” he muttered desperately, looking up to Papyrus with wide eyes, his bones shaking with fear. His brother’s magic flared to life after a few sputters, its natural blue hue dancing across his fingers. Sans’s soul was aching, shivering with the need to manifest his own magic too, and  _ make Frisk better _ . But he held back—he’d already done enough damage, he knew it was better to let Papyrus take over. “Wh-what did I do?”

Papyrus was making a pained whining as he pressed his hand hard against Frisk’s sternum. Soft, tuneless notes thrummed from the magic pouring into her soul. Healing magic. Papyrus had always been particularly astute at healing, so if anyone could fix this, it was him.

But it did nothing.

Frisk’s soul was almost fully broken.

Chara was weakening, their shadowy tendrils disappearing from around the heart-shaped soul.

Sans watched with panicked, bated breath, his soul pounding hard enough in his chest that he could feel it scorching his bones. It took every ounce of his energy not to join in with his brother and send his own healing magic in. What little he could do with his natural magic, at least. There was—there  _ was _ something he could do, but he didn’t— _ couldn’t _ —

“T-take it back!” Papyrus cried, gulping in breaths of air as though he was drowning. His eye-lights flickered between Frisk’s unresponsive, spasming body and Sans. Beads of condensation were sliding down his skull, his magic blazing in the space between them. “ _ Sans, take it back _ !”

Sans’s fingers dug into Frisk’s soft skin as he froze, his mind reeling as he tried to figure out what to do—how to fix this—how to make her  _ not die _ —

“ **S-sanssss,** ” Chara said in a shuddering hiss, sounding as though their voice was being forced through a thick obstruction. Frisk’s mouth was still slack, though, even as they spoke, and the sight of a human speaking without moving their mouth caused him intense distress. “ **Youuu—are—** **_killing heeeeeeee_ ** —” the whispery words cut off as Chara began wailing, the sound deeply inhuman. 

It chilled Sans to his soul.

He stared into Papyrus’s eyes, pleading with his brother silently so he didn’t have to look at the disturbing sight in his arms. “What do I d-d-d—” He found himself stuttering, his magic pressing into his bones and demanding to be used. 

But still, he held back. He  _ would not _ use his tainted magic on Frisk. “— _ do _ ?” he finally forced out. He was shaking hard, his magic painfully hot now. “How can I—” he muttered as he watched Papyrus pouring his essence into Frisk’s cracked, nearly-empty soul.

He clenched his jaw as a wave of magic burst from his hands, mingling with Papyrus’s in Frisk’s soul. He couldn’t—hold it back much longer—he  _ had to help _ —

“ _ I take it back _ !” he growled desperately, another wave of magic forcing itself from him. He was quickly losing control as Frisk’s soul cried out with need. His magic was being pulled from him now, in a reluctant, stuttering stream. “Don’t let her go—don’t let her die!” Papyrus let go of Frisk’s hand and gripped his shoulder, giving him support. He took a shuddering breath, his eyes caught on the pitifully pale face of the woman in his arms. “Tell me how…please,” he whispered. “ _ Please _ ,  _ Chara _ .”

A long, pained sigh came from Frisk’s throat, and Sans’s eyes went wide when he  _ felt _ instead of heard,

**Taaaalk…toooo…heeeerr…**

**…Keep…her…here…**

Both Sans and Papyrus shivered, huddling over Frisk’s body as their magic intertwined within her soul, feeding the shadows around it until they began to gather once more. It was as if the simple act of Sans giving in and asking for help had broken the dam he had built around his magic. His whole body was burning with need—attachment— _ affection— _ wanting to heal and soothe and hold her close to the warmth of his soul. Through the distant echo of his brother’s magic touching his inside Frisk’s soul, he could tell that Papyrus was feeling much the same.

He had no time to dwell on it, though, as he had immediately heeded Chara’s advice, bending his head to whisper, his voice low and choked with emotion,

“Frisk…I’m sorry…please, don’t let go.”

He could feel his magic shift, his words weighted with intention.

“I didn’t mean…to hurt you.”

He could see the soft purple of his healing magic weaving with his brother’s and stitching a net around Frisk’s soul. The shadows stretched and wrapped around their magic, sinking inside and filling the gaps. He shuddered at the feeling of the god being so close to his magical essence, but he pushed the feeling away. He had to focus. 

“I…just…wanted to help…” he choked out, unsureness making his voice higher than usual. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He had done so much damage, with a single sentence. All he had wanted was to  _ fix everything _ but, as usual, he had leapt into action without thinking when he had gotten angry with Chara.

He was  _ so sorry _ . 

_ I _ … _ know _ …

Sans’s eyes flew open, and across from him, he saw Papyrus’s do the same. They shared a look of amazed confusion at the soundless whisper that had drifted into his mind. And, presumably, Papyrus’s as well. He looked down to Frisk to see that she was staring up at him, her eyes showing a shocking amount of clarity and focus. His ragged breaths stopped dead, his soul immediately overheating his body with the intensity of his magic.

It was  _ working _ . She was still alive.

“Frisk?” Papyrus murmured, his hand moving from her chest to her face, softly stroking her cheekbone with his knuckles, leaving a streak of blood behind. “Was that you?”

She didn’t answer, though her eyes shifted over to Papyrus. Sans wondered if she could even see through the blood pooled in her vision. He wished he could get a wet cloth and clear it for her, but he was afraid to even move for fear of losing her again.

“Chara,” Sans breathed, not daring to blink. “Are you—is she stable now?”

There was only silence for what felt like a very long time, though in reality it must have only been a few seconds. Then a rasping, shadowy voice crept into his head, making him shudder.

**I don’t…think so…she is…very far away…I can hardly feel her…**

“But she isn’t in pain anymore?” Papyrus asked, his voice still very soft. Sans could tell how desperately hopeful he was by the shaking of his words. He wanted to take his brother’s hand and comfort him, but he was still supporting Frisk’s full weight.

**I…cannot…teee-ellll…? She is…so far away…I can only feel darkness…**

Sans’s brows pinched together with worry. That didn’t sound promising at all. In fact, that sounded incredibly ominous. 

**I can hear her…taaalk…ing…? Who is…there…in that void…with her?**

Sans’s soul practically cracked with fear. The void? She was in the void?

There was only one thing he knew that would be in that dark, empty place.

“Chara, pull her back! Get her out of there now!”

**I—I am trying—but she is—she is—**

**…**

Sans and Papyrus jolted up straight with panic as Chara’s raw scream of terror tore through their minds. Before they could properly react, though, the door to the room slammed open and in strode the matron, the dressing gown she wore sweeping behind her. Her piercing green eyes were fierce as they lit on the two of them standing over Frisk. She was on them in a single moment, a simple tin clutched in one of her hands.

“Matron—”

“Not  _ now _ , you foolish beast, I must work quickly to fix this,” she snapped, clicking open the tin as she stopped just in front of Frisk’s twitching form. Inside was a thick layer of a green, grainy paste-like substance, smelling strongly of herbs and wax. She smeared her thumb through the middle of it, holding it over Frisk’s forehead with a stern look for Sans. “Keep her still.”

“I—I can’t—” he stuttered, before he was cut off by Papyrus.

“She’s been thrashing like this the whole time,” he said quickly, bracing his hands around Frisk’s arms to keep her still. “I think it’s because Sans told Chara to free her. She’s somewhere else now—we tried to help—we tried—”

“Hush, my boy, now is not the time for panic,” the matron interrupted, her eyes sharp and calculating. “You say your brother told—” Her lips thinned suddenly, her eyes narrowing with what looked to be realisation. “ _ Chara _ .”

“Yes, they were arguing because Chara put their mark on me, but then Sans got angry and told them to—to let go—”

“ _ Lord have mercy _ ,” the matron said with exasperation before she leaned down and spoke directly in the spasming woman’s ear. “Frisk, my child, if you can hear me where you are, then do me a favour and  _ hold still _ .”

Frisk’s body twitched, her eyes rolling from behind her lids to focus blearily on the matron’s face.

A single whisper drifted through Sans’s mind from very far away.

_ Moth…errr…? _

“She heard you!” Papyrus cried.

“Good, now help her by holding her head still. This is delicate work.” When Papyrus placed his hands on either side of Frisk’s head, she bent and went to work. 

She painted a complicated rune on Frisk’s forehead, her wrinkled hand trembling softly. Sans began to feel faint with growing hope when he felt Frisk’s body calm, despite the angry red marks growing along her soul shaped like clawed fingers. It would be alright. The matron would fix this. She knew what to do. She knew.

She wouldn’t let Frisk be consumed by the beast.

“Cut her shirt open, would you?” the matron puffed, leaning back and dabbing more of the paste on her fingertips. Papyrus obliged without hesitation, unsheathing one of his hands from his glove and cutting a long slit down Frisk’s shirt, the buttons popping off and clattering to the floor. 

“Thank you, my boy.” 

On Frisk’s exposed sternum, directly over her soul, the matron drew a cage-like symbol, with several lines criss-crossing each other. Then she tucked the tin away and held one hand over each symbol, taking a deep, shaking breath.

It was then that Sans could see, under the concentration pinching her face, that she was  _ scared _ .

“Time to pray, boys.”

She muttered a few words in a language that Sans didn’t recognise at all. It was a series of short, sharp, glottal words that seemed to hammer against his head. It reminded him so much of the master that he flinched before he could tell himself it couldn’t possibly be.

“Chara,” the matron said with gritted teeth, her words heavy in the air, as if someone else spoke along with her, “ _ sleep now _ .”

Frisk’s body arched in his arms, her eyes going wide before she fell completely limp.

The shadows clawing into her soul—as well as the angry red marks—dissipated, leaving it painfully obvious just how empty and broken it had become without his and Papyrus’s magic filling it.

Sans held his breath, his bones shaking with dread. Surely, she wasn’t—

Before he could finish the horrible thought, though, Frisk gasped to life, her soul practically exploding with the brilliant red of her determination.

The next second, she cried out with confusion, her hands flying up to grasp at the matron’s. Sans’s soul ached with pain at the sight of her fear, desperate to comfort her.

“Easy, now, child, be calm,” the matron murmured soothingly, her voice back to its usual timbre. Frisk stared into her eyes as her breathing calmed from near hyperventilation back to a more regular rate.

Sans could feel both his and Papyrus’s magic reach for her, but he clamped down on his, afraid to reveal his growing attachment to her. He didn’t want to muddle the budding bond between her and his brother.

“What—Matron? Where—what happened—where is—where is—” Frisk stumbled over her words, looking from Papyrus to him, her eyes suddenly going vacant when she met his.

His soul shuddered.

She looked like part of her had died, and Sans knew what she was asking.

Where was Chara?

“You are safe—and so is Fairchild,” Matron said, slipping her hands from Frisk’s and stepping back. Frisk followed, sitting up from Sans’s arms and attempting to support herself on her own feet, but swayed badly as soon as she was upright. Papyrus caught her by the shoulders, and she turned a small smile to him before addressing the matron.

“But, Matron—I can’t—feel them  _ at all _ . I heard them in the—the darkness—” A haunted look crossed her face, and Sans felt a lance of guilt pierce him. He took a step back, tucking his hands in his jacket. It was  _ his  _ fault she had that look. He was the one who had sent her to the void. “But now they’re gone. I feel so…so  _ empty _ …” Her voice shook on the last word, and Sans had to look away and rein in his magic. He didn’t know if it was the Awakening or simply the brief connection he had forged when he’d poured his magic into her soul, but he was finding it much harder to resist comforting her.

But resist he did. He watched Papyrus slide his arms around her, instead, his soul practically burning his bones at the sight. It screamed at him that  _ he should be there, too _ but he just shoved the thoughts aside, locking them away so he didn’t have to listen anymore.

Even if she wanted his comfort, he didn’t deserve to give it. He was the cause of her pain.

“Don’t fret, dear. They will return in no time. The ritual I used does not last long, though its efficacy is tantamount to miracles while it lasts.” She gave a small, close-mouthed smile. “It isn’t the first time I’ve had to use it on them.”

Frisk shuddered, her hands coming up to touch Papyrus’s, as though she needed grounding. “It’s not—their fault, this time. I fell into—something—somewhere else—”

“Yes, Papyrus has informed me of how recklessly his brother has acted tonight,” the matron said, her words like poisoned knife tips as she glared at Sans. “Lucky a sister upstairs heard your cries and woke me. A moment later and Sans might have succeeded in killing you.”

Sans stared at the matron with open disbelief. She had never spoken to or about him like this before. He was surprised to feel a twinge of hurt. He had come to respect the older woman since meeting her all those years ago, despite his usual disregard for human life. She had always been sharp and no-nonsense, but she had never been  _ cruel _ , even though she knew what his duty entailed.

He couldn’t bring himself to defend himself, though. Why would he? She was right.

“Th-th-thank y-you for coming to h-h-heeeelp,” Papyrus said softly, one of his hands stroking through Frisk’s hair as the other supported her at her waist. “W-we were t-t-trying, b-but…sh-she was still…”

“Don’t thank me, son. I’ve sworn to protect everyone who finds sanctuary within these walls, no matter the nature of the assault.” The matron gave Papyrus a thin smile before turning to Frisk and saying, “My child, if you are feeling well enough to be left with Papyrus, would you excuse Sans and me? I believe we have a few things we need to discuss before the morning comes.”

Sans’s soul pounded in his chest at the matron’s words. He didn’t  _ want _ to talk to her alone. He would much rather just leave with his brother before he managed to do any more harm. 

Frisk was silent for a few moments, her expression incredibly nervous. “Er, I…” she murmured as she began to flush. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Matron. I’m—something has infected me—something worse than the Calling. I don’t think it would be a good idea to be left alone with either of them at the moment, to be honest.”

“I know what you’re speaking of, and you shouldn’t worry about it for the moment. The ritual I performed has cleansed you of any magical influence. It should last for as long as I need.” The matron tucked her hands in the pockets of her dressing gown, her eyes half-lidded as she glanced over at Sans. There was a promise of swift retribution in that look. “Once Fairchild begins to wake again, you will need someone there to bring you through it. I fear they will not be pleased.”

“Probably not,” Frisk laughed softly and slightly nervously, looking extremely exhausted, though her eyes will still bright under the fall of her sweat-matted hair. 

She watched Papyrus as he released her, only moving far enough away to position himself in a recline on her bed and hold his arms out to her. She glanced over at the matron with a shy, questioning look, but the older woman only made a shooing motion towards Papyrus. Without another moment of hesitation, Frisk climbed into Papyrus’s arms and settled against his chest, sighing softly with heavily-lidded eyes. “Thank you for saving me, Mother,” she whispered just loud enough for Sans to catch the words. “I was so scared in that place.”

“I know, child,” the matron reassured, her eyes softening as she looked on the younger woman in his brother’s arms. “Rest now. You will need your strength later.”

As the matron turned and strode to the open door without so much as a look in Sans’s direction to see if he was following, Papyrus’s quiet, almost timid voice spoke out in the silence,

“Matron.” When the older woman stopped and glanced over her shoulder, Papyrus briefly met Sans’s gaze, his eyes expressing his concern. Then he turned back and said, “Please, don’t judge my brother too harshly. He…what he did, he did with the best of intentions. He may have acted rashly by giving in to his fear, but he doesn’t deserve your hate.”

“‘Pyrus…” Sans choked out, his soul trembling with both dread and love for his brother. He knew what was going to happen. If he was lucky, the matron would simply tell him off for putting one of her girls in danger. If he wasn’t so lucky…well, people like her had their ways of dealing with monsters like him. “It’s okay. Just—just be safe, okay? Don’t let anyone catch you off guard.”

“That goes double when you’re watching my charge, young man,” the matron said sternly, before continuing through the doorway. Sans briefly considered simply leaving and waiting for his brother to find him, but he knew he would have to face the matron at some point. 

It might as well be now.

He caught up quickly enough with the woman after ducking through the doorway, glad for the height of the corridors. He was incredibly nervous to be walking so close to where humans slept, though, without his brother to watch his back. The odds of survival may be on his side, but there was still a chance of being outnumbered and overtaken, if the humans were determined enough.

And if there was anything he’d learned about the matron’s girls, it was that most of them were full of determination.

“Can’t I just—shortcut us to where we’re going?” he asked, speaking softly so as to not wake anyone nearby.

The matron only threw a narrow-eyed look over her shoulder at him.

Sans kept quiet after that. 

When they finally arrived at their destination, a small office tucked away on the opposite end of the Home’s ground floor, Sans was ready for the bite of the matron’s ire.

But it didn’t come.

The matron gestured for him to the close the door behind them, and moved around the back of a large oaken desk. Sans watched as she slid a drawer open and took a bottle from deep inside, as well as two glass snifters, setting them on the desktop.

Brandy?

Sans had no idea how to react to the sight of the matron pouring a finger of the caramel-brown liquid in both glasses before sliding one across the desk towards him. Her eyes were sharp as she watched him standing unsurely at the doorway, still, his eyes shifting between the drink and her.

“Drink up.”

Sans scowled, his brows raising. “No, thank you.”

The matron’s eyes flashed dangerously over her drink as she took a sip. “You must be mistaken. That wasn’t a request.”

Sans couldn’t help but flinch back the barest amount. He’d always been a little intimidated by the woman, considering her past. So when she spoke to him in such a direct, commanding tone, he found himself obeying. He took the drink reluctantly, standing awkwardly at the desk across from the matron as he sipped from the tiny glass.

It was…surprisingly good.

“Sans, why don’t you have a seat?”

Sans looked up from the glass being dwarfed by his hand to see the matron settling in her tall, wing-backed chair, the leather squeaking softly as she sat. He gave the opposite chair—a small, wooden stool—a dubious look before choosing to perch on the edge of the chesterfield sofa against the wall. He rested his forearms against his legs loosely, trying to position himself as casually as possible. He figured if he wasn’t going to be able to keep the tension from the conversation, he could at least police himself.

The matron sat in silence for a few moments, her eyes on her glass as she swirled the liquid inside. 

Sans wanted to blurt out his side of the situation before she could get started, but he held his proverbial tongue. She was the one who had saved Frisk from something  _ he  _ had done. His side of the story didn’t really matter much.

“Sans,” she began finally, after taking another sip of her drink. “I fear I may have failed all of you.”

He reeled back slightly, his eyes narrowing with surprise and confusion. The matron met his gaze straight on, though, so he knew she wasn’t trying to bait a negative response out of him. She was merely stating a fact.

“Why would you…” Sans asked vaguely, gesturing to her to indicate the rest of his question.

The smile she gave him was not a happy one. “The three of you may have believed you were being discreet, but I can assure you, I am fully aware of your relationship. I would not have advised my guards and sisters to look the other way, if I wasn’t.”

Sans tensed, his bones grinding against each other as they pressed through the magic holding them together. He didn’t particularly enjoy the thought that he’d been watched, but at the same time, he had expected it. It was the absolute least that the matron would have allowed herself in this situation.

“I don’t see how your awareness equates accountability,” Sans said, his voice low and neutral. “It wasn’t your lookout. I was the one who should have kept the situation from escalating. He’s my brother, after all.”

“I think we both know I’m not referring to your brother, lad.” The matron’s eyes were piercing, and Sans caught a flash of her yellow soul spitting inside her chest.

He looked away, shame flooding his own soul.

So she knew.

The matron sighed after another few moments of silence. “Sans, I didn’t bring you here to give you a scolding. I’m not your mother.” She paused, then barked out a bitter laugh. “Lord, what a thought.” Sans glanced up to see her smiling and shaking her head. Her eyes were practically twinkling as she pulled out a cigarillo from another tin in her desk. She offered it to him, but shrugged and lit it for herself when he waved his hand in refusal.

After she took a few puffs, she seemed to be much calmer—less strict in her demeanour. Sans found himself unconsciously relaxing.

“No, I don’t have time to be chasing after the three of you just to give reprimands that will ultimately be ignored anyway,” she said, grinning toothily, smoke drifting from her lips as she spoke. “However, that doesn’t mean I should have allowed you to engage with Frisk without giving some advice first. I have been aware of her ‘friend’ for some time now. We are…old acquaintances.”

Sans tried to study her face to figure out exactly what she meant by that, but she might as well have been carved from stone. She was completely unreadable.

“They can be… _ difficult _ to work with.” Sans snorted before he could stop himself, and the matron threw him another smile. “I should have warned you. Not just about dealing with them, but the dangers of becoming close with Frisk. And for that, I’m sorry, my boy.”

Sans blinked in surprise. “I—it’s okay. You couldn’t know I would do something so stupid.”

“Couldn’t I? Love makes fools of us all,” the matron quipped without missing a beat. Sans clenched the glass in his hands a little too hard, and he heard a crack form. He looked down to it, sighing when he saw the liquid trickling from the crack. He downed the drink in one go to avoid spilling any more. When he glanced back up, the matron looked incredibly amused. He scowled.

“What I did wasn’t driven by love,” he muttered. “I was…afraid. Things were getting out of control when I found out—”

The matron held out a held palm-out, and he cut himself off. “Don’t use their name. Best to get in the habit now, before you must confront them again.”

Sans gave a sort of growling sigh. “I can’t just call them Frisk’s friend forever. Everyone needs a name.”

“We agreed on the name Fairchild for my use. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you used it as well.” When she saw the stubborn look on his face, she flicked the end of her cigarillo into an ashtray and said, “Sans, I know you are desperate for the advantage, but this isn’t the way to get it. If you don’t try to compromise with them, they will simply advise Frisk that you aren’t worth allying with.”

Sans looked away, anger lancing through him. He hated this. He hated not being able to fight against something that was so obviously manipulating the woman he—

_ Frisk _ . Chara was manipulating Frisk.

“You don’t know that,” he grumbled, annoyed at the thought that he couldn’t use the only advantage he had now. He knew it was unfair of him to feel that way, considering the danger he had put Frisk in by doing just that, but still. It was a difficult pill to swallow.

“Perhaps. But what I  _ do _ know is, is that you are afraid that they will abuse their power. That they will prove to be no better than your master. That Papyrus and Frisk will fall to their influence, and you will be betrayed at a crucial moment.”

Sans met the matron’s intense gaze before losing the battle of wills and looking away. He dragged a hand over his skull and held it over his face, his teeth scraping against his carpals. “Fine, you know me better than I know myself. I get it. But that doesn’t change the fact that I  _ need _ to have some power over them. They can’t be allowed to control everything.”

“It must be terribly lonely, never trusting anyone but yourself.” When he looked up through his fingers, he saw the matron’s pitying eyes, and it set his teeth on edge. 

He  _ hated _ pity.

So even though he  _ knew _ she was likely saying that to goad an argument out of him, he snapped, “That’s  _ shit _ , and you know it. I trust my brother with my  _ life _ .”

Instead of scolding him for his language, she merely gave him a  _ look _ and said, “And Papyrus trusts Frisk. And Frisk trusts Fairchild.” She held the cigarillo to her lips and took another long drag as he ground his teeth together with frustration. He knew she could hear them clicking and groaning, as her lips twitched at the corners. “Do you see what I am saying?”

“How could I not? You’ve made yourself perfectly clear,” Sans growled. He hated being treated like a child, even though he knew he was acting childish. “So you think I should blindly trust that— _ Fairchild _ —has noble intentions, just because the people I care about do, too?”

“I think you’re being incredibly unfair to Frisk and Papyrus by suggesting their judgement of character is somehow flawed,” the matron said in a conversational tone. “It isn’t as though either of them is  _ blind _ to the flaws of their loved ones. Papyrus asking me to be easy on you despite your colossal misstep is evidence of that much, at least.”

“Papyrus attaches himself too easily,” Sans dismissed, ignoring her other statement. He  _ knew _ he was being unfair. He simply couldn’t bring himself to stop. He could feel the heavy denial in his mind resisting the truths he knew would emerge eventually. “And Frisk, by her own admission, is just as scared of them as I am. I know what I did was wrong, but if I could do it again without hurting her, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Sans, you foolish child, are you even listening to the words you speak, or do you just like the sound of your own voice?” the matron snapped, slamming her hand down on her desk hard enough to make Sans flinch. She stubbed out her cigarillo viciously and leaned forward. “You’re so consumed with the idea of rebellion that you’re willing to cut your nose off to spite your face! Well, let me spell it out for you as plainly as I can:  _ you need Fairchild _ . You  _ will not _ be able to free yourself without them.”

“That isn’t true,” he snapped back. “Papyrus got himself clean. He hasn’t taken manna for—years, probably!”

“ _ You are not your brother _ .”

Sans balked at the harshness of the matron’s words, looking away as his soul trembled with emotion. When he finally got the courage to look back, her eyes were much softer, compassion clear in her expression.

“Sans, I have watched you for decades now, performing your duties as though you were an automaton. You’ve held the weight of responsibility on your shoulders for so long that you’ve convinced yourself you are the only one who understands it. Do you think so little of your brother that you question his awareness of the risk? Did you not think he knew how difficult it would be to bond with Frisk, and by extension, Fairchild? 

“But he did it anyway, because he finds strength in the support of others, unlike you. You believe yourself able to overcome the influence of your master so easily that you require no one’s assistance. Because your brother did the same, did he not? But what you fail to realise is, Papyrus  _ had help _ . He has always had  _ you _ to support him when he struggles—has always known that if he should fall, you will be there to catch him. For you to say that you don’t need anyone’s help—that you shouldn’t trust anyone, because they could betray you—is tantamount to saying you believe your brother was weak for needing  _ you _ .”

Sans stared at the matron with raw, chaotic emotion battering his soul. 

She was right.

She was  _ right _ .

The matron stared at him for several tense moments, before she sighed again and leaned back in her chair, as though too tired to support herself. “But as I said before, I’m not here to scold you. I only wanted…to make you see that the path you’re heading down isn’t the only one available to you. That—if you’re willing to trust me—you will have my support. I will give you what you need to free yourself. You will have a safe place where you can be close to the ones you love when you need them most.”

Sans’s breath caught.

“Are you—are you offering the Home as sanctuary?”

The matron smiled warmly. “I am indeed, my boy.”

Sans’s brows knit together. “I thought I wasn’t welcome in the Home.”

“I may have reconsidered my stance on that particular issue when I saw how… _ attached _ …one of my wards has become,” she said in a teasing voice. “I felt it would be highly hypocritical of me to ignore the dangers of your blossoming romance.”

Sans felt his cheekbones heating up in the semblance of a human’s blush. He realised what it must seem like to the matron, the fact that he always came with Papyrus to see Frisk. He shook his head once. “It isn’t—you shouldn’t base your offer of sanctuary on Frisk. We don’t have—what you had. She’s only interested in Papyrus.” He shuddered softly, shame crawling in his soul at how intensely he wished his words were not true. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. 

He wanted his brother to be  _ happy _ .

He wanted  _ Frisk _ to be happy.

And they were happy together, he could tell.

He wasn’t going to let his contaminated feelings come between them,  _ goddammit _ . 

The matron tilted her head the barest amount, her eyes watching his every move. His face heated even further. “Is that right? That’s quite odd, I was absolutely sure that I hadn’t misread the woman I’ve known since she was practically a child. Hmm, my mistake, then,” she said, her twinkling eyes telling him something else entirely. “Still, though, I think I shall offer you sanctuary anyway. Just in case I was right, eh? Better safe than sorry.” Her voice was lined with amusement as he had to look away.

“Well, uh…that’s your call. I’m not saying that I’ll—I’ll do it—”

“All I ask is that you think about it.”

Sans glanced back over at the matron to see her with her hands folded on the table, her eyes sharp but kind. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his nerves shot to hell.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent.” The matron looked up when a rap of knuckles came at her door. Sans shifted uncomfortably when she said, “Yes?”

A small, feminine voice drifted through the door. “Mother, you have a telephone call waiting.”

“So early?” the matron muttered. “Who is it?”

“The constable, ma’am.”

The matron’s face fell into a scowl. “Very well, tell him I won’t be a minute.” When a soft affirmative came from the woman behind the door and footsteps signalled her retreat, the matron sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “Bloody bobbies.”

Sans couldn’t stop the snort that escaped him.

The matron opened one eye at him, smiling roguishly. “Don’t you dare repeat that to anyone.”

Sans chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Matron.”

“Good lad.” Sans stood as the matron brought herself to her feet, groaning softly. She tossed him another quick, amused look. “Go get yourself some rest, m’boy. You look bone-tired.”

Sans blinked, before realising that she was making a  _ pun _ .

A slow smile spread across his face.

“If you insist,” he said, before setting the broken glass down on her desk. He moved to open her door for her, frowning when a thought occurred to him. “Uh. Do you—would you mind if we stayed here for the day? It’s just that Papyrus will likely be tired, and I don’t really like to move out in the open in the daylight.”

The matron huffed softly with laughter, giving him a soft pat on his shoulder. “Sans, my offer of sanctuary was not dependant on your acceptance of help. In fact, I’d feel better knowing you and your brother were there to watch Frisk. Keep her safe from the other monsters prowling about.” She paused, her expression falling. “Which reminds me, I really must reinforce the runes around the Home now that the Waking Moon has risen. God knows your comrades would love to get their hands on her and my other girls.”

Sans sighed internally. He had no idea how he had come to this. Being on opposite sides of the battlefield from monsters he had considered to be his friends not so long ago.

He supposed that was the price he paid for trying to break free from the Master’s influence.

“Anyway, I must get to the constable before he sends foot soldiers after me.” She laughed softly to herself as they stepped out in the corridor. “The man has lost his mind to the moon this Blood Cycle. I’ve never seen it of him before. His son was practically foaming with fear for him and Frisk.”

They walked together through the halls as Sans thought dark thoughts about the boy who had man-handled Frisk. “I know. Papyrus and I caught him being rough with Frisk.”

The matron’s face fell into a dark look as well. “Even more reason to have you and Papyrus around.”

Sans smiled fiercely. “Frisk took care of him easily enough herself.” He felt a surge of pride at the memory.

“I don’t doubt it,” the matron said with amusement. “There’s a reason I’ve entrusted her with so much. Despite what some may think, I am no fool, my boy.” She grinned up at him and he laughed. “Still, even the strongest of us need someone to watch their back.”

Sans nodded. He had no problem with officially looking over Frisk, considering he’d already been doing just that, because of Papyrus’s feelings. He may not have been doing a great job of it, but now that things were— _ changing _ …

Well, he found himself much more concerned with Frisk as a person, instead of just protecting “his brother’s human.”

They fell into easy silence until they drew up to Frisk’s door once more. The matron reached up and gave his arm a single, tight squeeze, her eyes warm with understanding. “Remember: think on what I’ve said. And don’t let your fears control you when it comes to Fairchild. I promise you, they are not as corrupt as you imagine.”

Sans frowned softly, but still nodded. He wasn’t sure if he believed that Chara was as innocent as the matron was suggesting, but he was certainly willing to think a bit more clearly about the situation.

That was, if Frisk actually forgave him for what he’d done to her.

“That’s a good lad. Now, wish me luck with the constable. I fear I may need it.”

Sans gave a weak smile. “Luck.”

With a loose wave of her hand, the matron continued down the corridor, her hands tucked into her dressing gown. Sans watched her go until she disappeared around a corner, then turned to the door, taking a deep, steadying breath.

He could do this.

He could face up to his mistakes and ask for forgiveness.

The matron’s words about needing support from the ones he loved circled in his mind.

He  _ had _ to do this.

No matter  _ how _ scared he was.

With a quiet click, he turned the door handle and stepped inside.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: a real boy says hello.
> 
> It's my Tumblr, Marty! Something's gotta be done about my Tumblr!
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	23. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has a quiet moment with the brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIKE! Have an interim, fluff chapter.
> 
> Looove yooou guuuuuys -zooms by on her bicycle-
> 
> <3

 

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was Papyrus’s flower, its sweet, cloying scent washing over you as its petals unfurled in the sunlight.

You blinked up at it, coming to grips with where you were and what had happened. You were  _ exhausted _ still, despite falling asleep on Papyrus for presumably quite a while, if the strong light streaming through the window was any indication. Your mind was fuzzy and disoriented, but as soon as you remembered why you had managed to sleep in the first place, you quickly reached down inside your heart to see if your friend was there.

**I’m here, sweetheart. I’m back.**

You breathed out a sigh of relief.

Thank God.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t believed the matron when she’d said that your friend would return. But it was still nice to hear their voice again, uncharacteristically soft as it was at the moment. You wondered if that was because they were still weak from whatever ritual it was the matron had used.

**No, that wore off a while ago. I’m just…feeling a bit thoughtful.**

You could understand that. You weren’t exactly jumping with enthusiasm right now, either. You’d thought that sleep would help your confusion and distress over what had happened, but it hadn’t seemed to relieve even a bit of it.

**You do realise why that is, right?**

You blinked slowly, your eyes reluctant to stay open for long. No, you didn’t really understand why your mind was so sluggish.

**You almost fell into the void.**

You closed your eyes fully. The void?

**That darkness between life and death—the negative space where everything has the potential to both exist and not exist.**

Your eyes shot open again, and for a moment you thought you saw the flower swaying, despite the lack of a breeze.

That dark, cold, empty place—it had a name?

**It has more than a name. It has** **_denizens_ ** **.**

You swallowed past the dryness in your throat. So, those pale hands that tore at you—the laughter that pierced your mind—they were all…?

**Real? Incredibly so.**

Well. You supposed that explained why it had been so harrowing. You had faced real nightmares and escaped, thanks to the matron.

You shuddered violently at the memory, turning your face into your pillow.

As you did, you felt a bony arm slide around your waist and a sharp, ungloved hand come up to rest between your breasts, against your sternum.

Papyrus drew you back closer against him, obviously still asleep, considering the softness of his breath. You realised how entangled you were with him on your bed, having slid off him at some point so that instead of being pillowed against him, you were being cradled from behind. Both of you were on your sides, but had still managed to twine your legs together, as Papyrus had to curl up much more than you did to fit on your bed.

With his hand now resting just over your heart and his heartbeat fluttering against your spine, you felt completely surrounded by him. Protected. Cared for, even.

It was somehow comforting and exciting at the same time.

Your breath hitched softly as Papyrus made a small, happy sound in his sleep, his head nuzzling against your head. You felt his teeth catch slightly in your hair, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

You smiled, though warmth crept into your cheeks.

At the feel of his teeth, you suddenly remembered the fact that you had _kissed_ _Papyrus_ just before everything went so wrong.

**Please don’t think too hard on that just now, sweetheart. It’s been fairly difficult keeping the heat from both of you already, with so little power left.**

You hummed quietly. You were finally noticing the fact that you weren’t particularly feeling the chaotic, powerful drive to be intimate with Papyrus, despite being so physically close. Now that you were fully awake, though, you could feel yourself warming where he touched you. Your heart began pounding softly at the acute awareness of his bones pressing into your skin in such an innocent, but possessive way. Through the sweetness of the flower’s aroma, your nose was finding Papyrus’s distinct scent and holding on to it, until you could barely smell anything else.

His hand shifted slightly, so that his thumb slid across your suddenly stiffened nipple through your torn shirt.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you pressed your face into your pillow harder to muffle your breathless sigh. It didn’t help your growing need one bit, though.

**Perhaps it would be best to put some distance between you and him. If you stay here, I don’t think I can hold you for very long at all.**

There was a brief pause from your friend as you unconsciously pressed your bottom back against Papyrus’s pelvis when he gripped you tighter to him. You were breathing softly into your pillow, your lips parted and spreading the warm, moist air through the fabric against your face. You felt slightly as though you were suffocating, and it only excited you further.

You had the sudden image of Papyrus draped over you from behind, his hands threaded through yours as you presented to him. Your face pressing into the pillow as he slid into you, gently at first, but then hard—harder. His voice whispering in your ear that you were so sweet, so good, so  _ soft _ . Your moans joining his as he thrust into you, both of you losing yourself to your desires.

You began trembling with need.

**I can’t feel what of this is you and what is outside influence.**

You thought on that, trying to douse the fire building in your core.  _ Did  _ you already want what you had seen? With Papyrus or—anyone?

You weren’t sure.

Your body was obviously saying  _ yes _ , right now, but when you searched your heart, you felt as though you weren’t quite ready for it. That you still had certain questions—certain doubts. You had no idea how you would even go about it, as well, even once those questions and doubts were gone. He was, well—a  _ monster _ . You had seen for yourself that there was nothing hidden away. He really was just a skeleton under his trousers.

Or, at least, he was shaped like one.

**If you’re curious, you could ask Sans.**

You froze.

Sans wasn’t…in the room, was he?

**Of course. I thought you knew.**

_ No _ , you hadn’t known!

You slowly rolled your head to the side again until you could scan half of the room with one eye.

Sure enough, there was Sans, sitting in the corner next to the door, his legs drawn up so that he could prop his wrists against his knees.

He was watching you.

Oh,  _ Lord _ . 

**You really shouldn’t worry. Last night, we were all a lot more intimate than what you just did.**

You wondered what they meant.

**When you were…** **_falling away_ ** **…the brothers poured their healing magic into your soul. For a brief time, we mingled.**

Your heart swelled softly at the thought of the brothers going to such lengths to save you.

You’d known that they’d done  _ something _ to help, considering Papyrus’s words to the matron. You had tried asking Papyrus before you fell asleep, but he hadn’t answered. He’d been insistent that you get some rest instead of talking. You had complied, too exhausted to argue, especially as it hadn’t really mattered at the time. All that had mattered to you was that Papyrus had held you and stroked your hair, whispering that you would be okay, that you were safe now. 

You never would have thought it would have been something so intense as using their magic on your  _ soul _ .

You hadn’t even been fully aware that it was something tangible that could be affected in that way.

**Of course. How do you suppose** **_I_ ** **help you?**

You…really hadn’t thought about it, truthfully. You were just happy to have them with you.

**Ever the romantic.**

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, shifting your head so you could fully meet Sans’s eyes. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when your gazes locked, though you could see the strain in his body by the clench of his dangling hands.

“Morning,” he said, his voice soft enough to send chills down your spine. “Are you feeling any better now?”

You nodded, feeling inexplicably shy. You didn’t know which was making it worse: the thought of him watching you get overwhelmed by thoughts of sex with his brother, the fact that he had actually helped bring you back from the void with his magic even though he’d been so angry with your friend, or even just the way he looked at you now, his eyes boring into yours before flicking down and across your body entangled with Papyrus’s.

“Do you…need to get up?” Sans asked, his eyes practically drinking in the sight of you. Your body tensed at the way he spoke with a hint of suggestiveness in his words. You thought you would be much more embarrassed at the thought of Sans pointing out your obvious arousal, but you were drawn in by it instead. You had the thought that you could just continue what you’d started. You could watch him as you slid your hands between your thighs and relieved that pressure building there, revelling in his attention instead of hiding your face away.

**Perhaps it would be best not to do that right now. Because I’ve a distinct feeling he would devour you the second you gave him the word.**

Your breath skipped and you shifted your hand to hold onto Papyrus’s as it slipped a little further onto your breast. You threaded your fingers through his, relieved when he simply curled his hand in yours in his sleep.

You smiled somewhat awkwardly at Sans, acutely aware of the slickness of your sex. “Ahh, perhaps it  _ would  _ be prudent,” you whispered back to him, your face positively aglow with your thoughts and the small touches from Papyrus.

“Probably,” Sans said with a breathless laugh, his eyes still sharp with obvious interest. “Papyrus does get pretty overly familiar when he sleeps. He likes someone to hold onto.”

You froze for the barest moment while attempting to shift your lower half away from Papyrus first. You glanced between Sans and down to your bed. “Should I—not move, then?”

Sans’s smile grew, his eyes softening somewhat. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine. He’ll probably wake up soon anyway; I don’t think I’ve ever really seen him sleep this long before. He must have been tired. Or…comfortable.” He mumbled the last word, his eyes darting away from yours. Your blush deepened, though you smiled as well. It was rare to see Sans so flustered.

“Do you, uh, want some help?”

You laughed softly when he gestured to your entwined bodies. “No, that’s okay. Or—probably, yes, I could do with a bit of help, but I don’t want to be a bother. I know you aren’t—ah, you know. Protected…against…ah,  _ me _ ?” The more you spoke, the more flustered you became. You had to look away from him when you danced around the problem of your compulsion and how he didn’t have your friend to numb the effect.

The low, knowing laugh he gave you then sent a wave of chills across your whole body, your skin prickling in goosebumps.

“Don’t worry about me. I may not have a god on my side, but I’m pretty tough.” When you glanced up at him, he was already lifting himself to his feet. “Let me give you a hand. Otherwise ‘Pyrus will never let you go.”

You opened your mouth to protest more, but when Papyrus softly pressed his hips and pelvis against your bottom, sighing against your neck, only a creaking whine emerged. Sans tensed visibly for a moment before smiling again and shuffling over to you, his sneakers silent on the stone floor. “Here,” he said, holding his hand down to you. “Probably best to just do it in one go.”

You glanced down at his hand nervously.

**Go ahead. I have you well enough.**

You sucked softly against your bottom lip before unclasping your hand from Papyrus’s and sliding it into Sans’s. You felt a little hitch against your heart before it settled into a soft, pleasant humming.

You and Sans had locked eyes the moment he had gripped your hand, his absolutely dwarfing yours. You simply held each other’s gazes for a moment before you shifted enough to have him slide you out from Papyrus. As soon as you were standing, you glanced down to see Papyrus snuggling further into your bed. You smiled, wondering if you should cover him or if he didn’t even feel the chill in the air. 

You turned to ask Sans what you should do, but when you met his eyes again, you were suddenly  _ painfully _ aware of how close you stood together. You had to lean your head back to look into his eyes, and he had his head ducked towards you. You were both still holding hands, his fingers gripping yours in a tight, but not painful hold. When you saw the way his eyes throbbed and softened around their edges when he looked down at you, his breath slow and deep, you felt your body try to respond instinctively by bending and leaning up for a kiss.

But you held yourself back at the last moment, trying to disguise the movement as merely stretching your muscles. Your stomach flopped with nerves when he smiled in a way that made you positive he had seen right through you.

**I can mask a lot, sweetheart, but there’s not much I can do about the scent of your arousal.**

Oh.

You practically lit on fire when you realised that his deep breaths were likely him smelling you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t mean to be so…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely at yourself with your free hand.

Sans was silent for so long that you began to feel that there was something wrong. When you tried to pull your hand away, though, you were surprised to feel him tighten his grip almost instinctively. Your eyebrows knit together as you looked up at him, slightly upset with yourself for enjoying the raw, obvious attraction in his stare.

You had just admitted your feelings to Papyrus—you weren’t supposed to be feeling these flutters in your stomach because of his brother.

**If it makes you feel better, just blame it on the Awakening.**

It did make you feel better, a bit.

**Though it’s perfectly natural to desire more than one person at a time.**

Well,  _ that _ advice certainly didn’t help.

**Who said I was trying to help?**

You gave a silent growl to your friend, before shaking your head slightly and slipping your hand from Sans’s. He let you go this time, though his eyes still burned with desire.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, glancing away. “I know it must be hard. To be around me when I’m like this.” When your hand lifted to touch your pendants nervously, you remembered that your shirt was still split open from the neck to your sternum. You huffed and held your shirt closed, instead.

“You have no idea.”

Your eyes shot back to Sans’s when he growled under his breath. You were caught again, your body swaying gently towards him as you tried to fight your attraction. Briefly, it looked as though he was considering touching you, as his hands lifted slightly away from his sides. But then he fell back, breaking eye contact with an almost  _ shy _ smile.

“But it’s like I said—you don’t have to worry about me. I’m strong enough.”

You had to fight to keep your breath under control. You had a thousand things you could say to that, but the only one you wanted to say was:

What if you didn’t want him to be strong enough?

**You already know what would happen.**

You knew. Which was why you didn’t say it. 

Instead, you smiled tiredly and said, “Speaking of strong enough, I should probably go find some raw meat or something equally bloody.” You gave a quiet laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Feeling a bit…low.”

Sans’s face immediately shifted into a rueful expression. You were confused about his sudden mood swing, but then you realised he must still be upset about his mistake.

**It was a pretty big** **_mistake_ ** **to make.**

The corners of your mouth turned down slightly. Your friend certainly wasn’t blameless in what had happened. You didn’t think they should be throwing rocks in a glass house.

**Yes,** **_Mother_ ** **.**

“Frisk,” Sans began after a few moments of silence. “About—your friend.”

You could feel your friend’s attention snap closer, where they had been slightly drifting away, petulant about you telling them off.

“Yes, Sans?”

Sans shifted from foot to foot, hooking his thumbs in his jacket’s pockets. It seemed as though he could barely look at you. “I wanted to say that—that I’m sorry.” When your eyebrows lifted high, he gave a lopsided, but still apologetic smile. “To both of you. What I did—trying to separate you like that, without knowing what the consequences would be—was  _ stupid _ . It was dangerous, and thoughtless. I…” his words drifted off into silence.

You studied his face, hardly able to believe what you were hearing. You had already known that Sans was sorry for what he’d done. You could remember him whispering to you in the darkness. The terror in his voice, the panic as he tried to fix what he had unwittingly caused. But this self-reflection, this open admission of guilt—you hadn’t expected that. You’d thought that both his and your friend’s pride would remove the possibility of apology.

**You think so little of me, my love.**

And yet they hadn’t given you any reason to think otherwise, had they?

You heard a soft huff, and felt them withdraw for a moment.

You smiled.

“Apology accepted, Sans,” you said. “I’d like to apologise as well, though. I feel that my friend and I have been rather unfair to you and your feelings on our mutual…situation.” You tucked your hands into your trouser pockets, forgoing your attention to modesty for comfort. It wasn’t as though he was looking, anyhow. 

“I know you’ve only had Papyrus’s well-being in mind when you act as you do.  _ And _ mine, to an extent, I suppose.” You shrugged your shoulders lightly when he glanced over at you briefly, before looking away again. “I—I suppose what I’m saying is: I know how hard this has been for you. All of this. Not just the compulsion. Not just my friend marking Papyrus.” You tilted your head until he had no choice but to meet your eyes, and you smiled warmly once he did. “All of it. Your resistance to your master, your courage to ask for help. You’re strong, Sans. I admire you for that.”

Simply seeing Sans’s reaction to your apology was enough for you. You didn’t need to hear any other words from him when you saw the soft, reddish glow creeping across his cheekbones.

Somehow, he was  _ blushing _ .

You had never seen anything quite so charming.

“Sans,” you breathed, unable to stop yourself from asking, “Are you…?”

His hands clenched tight, for only a moment, before he puffed out a laugh and scraped his hands over his face. “Yeah, it keeps happening. Wish it would stop, to be honest. Feels horrible.”

You had to hold a hand to your mouth to hide your smile. When you spoke, your words were slightly muffled. “You mean, you aren’t controlling it?”

“Why would anyone do this on purpose?” Sans asked, one of his hands splaying in his incredulity.

You laughed as softly as you could, though you tried not to. “Well, there are a lot of people who find blushing to be quite… _ endearing _ .”

**Like you?**

Your smile only grew.

“It’s—I’m not—trying to—” Sans stuttered, his blush spreading, his eyes glancing to something behind you.

Before you could tease him any further, you felt a weight settle on your shoulders and arms snake around you from behind. You jumped as one of Papyrus’s cool hands immediately settled across your stomach and the other over your chest. A couple of his fingers slid beneath your shirt, taking advantage of the slit there to stroke against your bare skin. He buried his face in your hair as usual as you automatically held your own hands over his.

“What my brother is trying to say,” he murmured sleepily, “is that it isn’t him causing the blush—it’s his soul.”

You rolled your head and shoulders enough to be able to look up at Papyrus. As soon as your eyes met, you felt that same yanking in your soul. You wondered how long you were going to have to put up with that.

**Hopefully no longer than the end of the Cycle.**

“His soul is making him blush?” you asked, eyebrows pulling together.

“It’s a monster thing,” Papyrus whispered, his mouth pulling into a soft smile. Your heart thumped hard. He looked so  _ enamoured  _ of you. “When we get close with someone, our souls naturally begin to…ah,  _ emulate  _ the other.”

“It’s to ease social boundaries between differently-shaped monsters,” Sans explained, speaking quickly when you turned your eyes to him.

**Aw, so the teddy bear has a crush. Tell him he’s sweet.**

You decided not to repeat your friends words.

**Spoilsport.**

“By ‘close,’” you said, slightly distracted by the way Papyrus kept gently pressing his fingertips into your skin, “do you mean this is happening because of how you both helped save me?”

“Most likely,” Sans said, shrugging a shoulder.

Papyrus nuzzled along your hair down to your neck. He always seemed particularly fond of it for some reason.

**Yes, for** **_some_ ** **reason.**

You ignored your friend’s sarcasm, listening instead to Papyrus say,

“It was a fairly intimate moment. I apologise if that makes you uncomfortable. I assure you, though, we thought only to keep you from dying.”

You laughed under your breath before giving his hand a pat and nuzzling your cheek against his skull. “No, please don’t apologise. I wanted to thank you, actually. Both of you. If it wasn’t for you, I’m sure I’d be—” Your smile dropped in an instant at the thought of the void. The echo of screams crashed through your skull, and you had to close your eyes and focus on the pleasant feeling of Papyrus draped over you like a hard, warm cloak.

It worked, after a few moments.

“There’s no need to thank us, Frisk,” Papyrus said. “That’s just what friends do.”

**And lovers.**

You felt Papyrus twitch hard against your back, as if surprised. You blinked, twisting your torso so that he would have to look at you. You lifted your eyebrows in question, asking him silently if he was alright.

He met your eyes for a moment before looking away.

And  _ blushing _ .

Your lips parted with confusion, your heart beating hard at the sight.

**I may have neglected to mention that our lad might be able to hear me occasionally.**

Your hands gripped hard onto Papyrus’s as you turned to face Sans again. Papyrus kept a bit of space between your bodies, though, and you couldn’t stop yourself from mentally frowning at your friend.

“Still. Thank you,” you mumbled, mostly for Sans’s benefit than anything else.

You felt your friend tickle your throat with their fingers, playfully asking you permission to speak. You scowled internally but relinquished some control to let them in alongside you.

Before they could speak, though, you warned, “My friend wants to speak.”

Sans’s eyes narrowed the smallest amount, but he still nodded.

“ **So, Sans—now that we’re all friendly again, and** **_mostly_ ** **on the same team—what do you say we make it one big, happy family?** ”

Sans’s eyes went wide for a moment before his features settled into a flat expression. “I’m considering my options.” He paused, but when no one responded to his vague statement, he sighed and continued. “I spoke to the matron about possibly taking sanctuary here to—to have support while I get— _ rehabilitated _ .”

“But that’s great!” Papyrus cried, sliding his arms from you to leap over to his brother. “That means you don’t have to go back there!”

“I said  _ possibly _ , ‘Pyrus.”

Papyrus was already dancing around Sans, though, excitedly skittering along the stone floor. “Neither of us have to go back! You can break the manna’s influence and bond with Chara—”

“ **Please don’t use my name, Papyrus,** ” your friend said with a hint of exasperation as well as fondness in their voice. “ **If you must use something, the matron already calls me Fairchild. You can use that, too.** ”

“—oh, sorry—you can bond with F-Fairchild, and then you can s-staaay here with me and Frisk and we can be s-s-safe!”

Sans watched Papyrus as he spoke excitedly, stopping in front of him with a wide smile, his feet stamping the floor softly. Sans smiled back at him, rubbing the back of his skull with a hand and glancing over at you. “It, uh, doesn’t really sound like I have a choice, after all.”

You smiled somewhat sadly. “There’s always a choice, Sans.”

“I know,” he responded quietly, holding a hand on Papyrus’s shoulder. “I’m still thinking about it. I don’t want to rush into anything without thinking of all the consequence first.”

There was a brief pause where all of you considered that.

Sans smiled wryly. “For once.”

You laughed, high and bright, glad that he had at least come to recognise his flaws.

“The matron said we can stay here no matter what, though, ‘Pyrus. So you don’t have to worry about going back.”

Papyrus’s eyes went wide, and he glanced over at you with the hint of a question. You weren’t sure what he was asking, so you just waited for him to say, “Is that alright with you, Frisk? If—if we stay with you here in the Home?”

You blinked. “Don’t be silly, of course it is. But I don’t know how in the world you would be able to hide yourselves from everyone.”

“ **I could help with that,** ” your friend immediately responded to you aloud. You felt a flicker of amusement. “ **With Papyrus at least.** ”

“I’m pretty good at sneaking around anyway,” Papyrus boasted, standing straight and looking pleased with himself. You grinned. “I doubt anyone would even notice me.” He glanced over at his brother, who was already looking his way. “Sans, however, is a different matter. He’s much too big to do much sneaking.”

“That’s a good point,” Sans said, humming low. He shrugged lightly with one of his hands palm-up. “Maybe it would be better to talk to the matron herself about this, before we try to think up any plans.”

“Good idea,” you said, nodding. “She’s likely thought of something already.” Your stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly, and you grinned sheepishly. “Plus, I’d better get some food in me. Think Fairchild might forcibly take control if I don’t.”

You noticed a flash of some emotion in Sans’s eyes that you couldn’t quite understand—though it seemed to be a mix of interest and disgust. Before you could ask him about it, it was gone.

“Let’s go, then, before they get any ideas,” Sans said good-naturedly, though there seemed to be an undercurrent of that other emotion in his words. You searched his face for a few moments, while Papyrus agreed, but you saw nothing indicating he was hiding anything in particular.

**It will be a long process with that one, I think.**

You thought about that, before agreeing silently.

Sans was definitely going to take some time to convince fully that you and your friend weren’t going to betray him at a crucial moment. But you were determined to make him see that everyone could work together now, despite how much all of you had hurt each other.

Because everyone deserved another chance.

You smiled warmly at Sans, stepping up to the brothers with your hands out. “Shall we take a shortcut?” you asked, hoping you weren’t being too presumptuous.

It seemed you weren’t, as they both took your offered hands and smiled back.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY FOR REAL THIS TIME NEXT UP: we dem real boys.
> 
> Snap into a Tumblr!
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	24. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eyes...the eyes...the eyes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologise for the long wait for this chapter! Thank you all for being patient with me. I truly appreciate it, and your continued support. <3 all of you. I really, really do.

 

When you, Sans, and Papyrus stepped through the permanent shortcut in the forest to emerge in the downtown area of the city, you were met with a very tense, angry atmosphere.

At first, you thought it might be because of the three of you. As you strode down the cobbled pavements, it seemed as though everyone had a nasty or nervous look to throw your way. You had half expected it, though you had hoped the outfits you’d chosen to hide the brothers’ oddness would have worked better than  _ not at all _ .

You’d gone to see the matron, but before you could really talk to her about your dilemma, she’d posed you a better one herself. Due to the constable ringing that morning and threatening to send over some of his men to guard the Home ‘properly’ as he’d put it, you needed to pay a visit to the city with haste. You’d been given a large, practically rare steak and a suspiciously blood-like drink to consume, so you wouldn’t have to go hunting first. She had insisted on the brothers joining you for protection in the moon-addled city. So then came the task of finding suitable clothes for the brothers so that the city civilians wouldn’t immediately know there were monsters walking amongst them. The matron had laughed as she’d pointed you to the small cache of donated clothing, and wished you good luck.

You’d soon realised you would need it.

Dressing them both had come with their respective challenges, neither easier than the other, you’d found. Where you struggled to find anything that would fit over Sans’s wide shoulders, you also couldn’t find much in the way of trousers to fully cover Papyrus’s long legs. Not to mention the trouble of figuring out how to disguise Papyrus’s pointed feet. 

You’d settled on a large brown woollen trench-coat style jacket for Sans, to go over a linen shirt and brown waistcoat and his slightly ill-fitting suit jacket. He kept his trousers, despite their worn hem, as it had been easier than attempting to find a pair that fell as low as they did. He refused to change his shoes from his sneakers, so you ended up kneeling to clean the spots of blood from them as best you could in the short time you had.

For Papyrus, you’d gone with a more fashionable lounge suit in the same dark brown wool as Sans’s jacket. You solved his trouser problem as best you could by hanging them much lower on his hips than usual and compensating with suspenders. With the long-ish suit jacket on top of it, and the overcoat as well, you couldn’t tell that the trousers were so low at all. It looked somewhat silly, with the gap between his shoes and trouser legs, but it was truly the best you could do. You had stuffed his shoes with cloth to bulk out the smallest shoes you could find, as well, so that his pointed feet would stay in them. 

When you’d stepped back to view both of them, you hadn’t been able to keep the smile off your face. Despite how mis-matched and old-fashioned the clothes they wore were, they looked positively dapper.  It was painfully obvious how uncomfortable they were to be wearing the more formal clothes, though. Sans kept tugging at his tie, and Papyrus wouldn’t stop fidgeting to get a look at himself in the mirror, so you hadn’t taken much time to admire your handiwork.

Feeling particularly pleased with yourself, you’d stood on your very tip-toes and pulled each of them down for a kiss on the cheekbone before plopping a wide-brimmed hat each on their respective skulls. By the time they’d pulled the hats down over their skulls properly, all three of you had been blushing.

Your friend had just laughed.

You’d finished off their outfits with the most important pieces: a long, tartan scarf for each of them to cover their unmistakably-inhuman mouths, and gloves. They’d asked you if they should also wear sunglasses, but after you’d studied their faces from a few feet back, you decided it wouldn’t really be necessary. In your experience, humans didn’t like to stare at someone who looked dangerous or particularly  _ different _ than them. And that went double for where you lived. So as long as they didn’t get too excited and got their eyes glowing particularly bright, you didn’t think they would stand out too much.

At least, that’s what you’d  _ hoped _ .

It seemed that no one in the city was interested in complying with your wish to remain stealthy.

You felt rather than saw your friend slipping a cloak of shadow around Papyrus, helping to keep him less noticeable. You thanked them silently as your eyes scanned the hostile-looking crowds, the heels of your dress-shoes clacking against the cobblestones. They pinched your feet in a way that immediately soured your mood, but you had to wear them if you were going to be taken seriously as a man in the city. You’d even slicked your hair back under your hat. It felt strange to be in your disguise again, after neglecting it for so long at the Home.

As you made your way through the city streets, you absently wondered why everyone seemed to be in such a hurry. Everyone looked incredibly nervous— _ scared _ , even. You eventually decided it mustn’t be the three of you, after all, as fewer and fewer people seemed to even notice your presence, the further into the city you ventured. As the buildings around you shifted from the rambling, somewhat dilapidated cottages of millers and factory workers to the more looked-after townhouses of the business owners, you began to see a shift in people’s attitudes. Mothers held their children close to their side as they hurried down the streets. Men and women alike stared hungrily at each other, their eyes wide and glassy. You weren’t too concerned with that kind of behaviour, though. Considering the moon’s shadow was still visible in the sky now, even during the day, you felt they were actually quite reserved. By this time in the Cycle of the other two Blood Moons you’d lived through, you had been particularly rabid. So to see some modicum of self-restraint in these citizen’s eyes was somewhat surprising to you.

Still, you didn’t feel it amiss when Sans and Papyrus walked just that bit closer to you, their hands brushing against yours. You kept your eyes peeled for any sign of impending violence, but everyone seemed more interested in getting  _ away _ than starting fights.

Then you stepped through the large archway into downtown, and saw why.

You didn’t notice it at first, so intent were you on spotting a fight already in progress. But when you met a wall of people just  _ standing  _ in the middle of the street, blocking traffic both ways, you couldn’t  _ help _ but notice. The air was so thick with the smell of flowers and tar-soap that you could hardly breathe. There were shouts from deep within the crowd—most likely police, as they were saying things like ‘move along’ and ‘disperse!’—but none of the people so much as blinked. No one noticed as you approached, either, their eyes all staring vacantly into the sky. Their mouths were slack as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, seemingly completely and utterly unaware of their surroundings. You shivered lightly at the sight, glancing between them and where their gazes fell. You could have guessed it would be the moon’s shadow, but to your surprise, some of them also seemed to be staring into the sun.

**Why…?**

“Papyrus,” you breathed, tugging lightly on his jacket to ask him to come down to your level. He did so in a way that wouldn’t seem quite so eerie to anyone who might have been looking.

“Yes, Frisk?” he asked, looking very curious about the situation, his eyes still flickering over the crowd. You figured he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see humans acting so odd, if he had been guarding the hole for so long. If this was making  _ you _ nervous, it must have been an especially strange sight for him.

**Even** **_I’m_ ** **not fully comfortable with this.**

“Can you see over the block? Is there a way around?” you whispered.

Papyrus straightened for a moment, his eyes scanning across the tops of the crowd. You heard a distant exclamation of “Dear God!” and you hoped it wasn’t because of Papyrus.

**Not really our concern even if it was. If someone cares more about a slightly odd-looking fellow than these worshippers, they certainly have their priorities skewed.**

You huffed with laughter, your teeth catching the inside of your cheek in a soft, nervous bite. Papyrus leaned back down to you, his eyes worried. “No, I’m afraid there isn’t a way around. They’ve spread themselves to the side-streets as well.”

You glanced over to see that Papyrus was right—even where there was no direct line of sight to the sky, such as in the covered alleyway next to you, there were still people standing with their faces upturned.

You shivered again.

You retracted your earlier thought. This was much worse than what you’d seen before in the Blood Cycles.

You looked up to Sans when you felt a heavy hand fall on your shoulder. He looked completely unfazed by the sight, and you wondered how much like this he’d seen while carrying out his duties over the years. “If you want,” he said, his eyes only staying on yours for a second before moving back to the crowds, “I can get us past them, so we don’t have to walk through.”

You considered that briefly. On the one hand, you really didn’t want to walk through those people. True, they weren’t  _ doing _ anything, but there was something about them that made you intensely wary. A razor-sharp edge of tension in the air. The heavy, claustrophobic blanket of silence that wasn’t quite fully pierced by the police’s shouts for order.

On the other hand, there was no stealthy way for two monstrously tall men to simply disappear in the middle of it all. You could always turn back and try to find a suitably empty place to have Sans shortcut from, you supposed. But that would take time, and you weren’t wanting to dally in the city.

“Do you know where the police station is?” you murmured to Sans.

His face told you everything before he even spoke. “Not…exactly where it is.”

You worried at your cheek. “Let’s not, then. It’s probably not worth the hassle.” You surveyed the thick wall of people before you, and sighed. “Come on, then. Let’s just get this over with.”

With a nod from both of the brothers, you took the first step, sliding sideways into the wall of people. You held your breath as you pressed between the crowd, keeping your eyes on their faces to see any change. You were trying to be gentle as you passed, careful not to jostle anyone too much, though you knew it made little difference. Not only was everyone still just as vacant as before, but they even maintained it while the brothers shoved through.

You breathed out, relaxing slightly. Surely if they were going to do something, they would have done it when the brothers touched them.

When you guessed yourself to be about halfway through, though, you began to feel something familiar.

Those creeping, tingling fingers on the back of your neck.

That flush that started at the base of your spine.

The hair on your arms brushed against your sleeve as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

**You’re being watched.**

Your entire body tensed even as you forced it to keep moving slowly, carefully through the sea of moon-worshippers. Who was it? Who was watching you?

As you stepped around a particularly large man that came close to Sans’s height, you twisted just enough to look behind you, hoping to catch a glimpse of your watcher.

Your heart skipped as you went faint with fear.

_ Everyone _ was watching you.

Every single eye was focused directly on you, wide and fervent and unwavering.

Panic lanced through you as you swayed on your feet, taking a step backward to brace yourself. You tried to keep your breath under control as you spun back around, continuing through the crowd. You trembled uncontrollably as you whispered,

“Sans? Papyrus?”

“We see them,” Sans answered, his voice low and somewhat ominous. He sounded as though he’d love nothing more than to smash through the crowd right now.

“Don’t worry, Frisk. They can’t hurt you,” Papyrus said, keeping close to your side. You nodded, then nodded again after a moment.

That was right, wasn’t it? They weren’t trying to hurt you, right? They were just—watching—you—

You glanced behind you again and saw the eyes of the people you had just gone past shift down to focus on you, their mouths agape. 

**_They_ ** **might not be trying to hurt you, but it wasn’t** **_them_ ** **that I was talking about.**

You flinched as your friend’s thoughts coincided with a particularly loud cry from one of the policemen.

If they hadn’t been talking about the crowd, then who…?

**I don’t know. I can’t feel them well enough through these people. The only thing I can tell is that there are two of them.**

Papyrus twitched beside you, and drew even closer. You scrambled for his hand, forgetting that you were meant to be in a man’s disguise. He gripped your hand hard.

“Sans,” he said, his calm voice belying his obvious worry. “There’s someone else watching us. Can you smell them?”

At Papyrus’s words, Sans’s eyes snapped to the space behind you, narrowing dangerously. There was a pause before he shook his head. “Not through this…haze.”

Papyrus gave a soft whine. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I,” both you and Sans whispered back.

“But let’s just keep moving,” Sans continued, his eyes scanning the entire crowd regularly.

You nodded, and tried to keep your focus on pushing through the thinning crowd. You were being a lot rougher than before, but you couldn’t stop yourself, knowing that every single person you passed would be turning their eyes to you with that glassy gaze.

When you finally broke free of the wall of worshippers, you were met with a barrage of police attention. As nearly half a dozen men turned to you with shouts and questions, you gestured for Sans and Papyrus to keep back. You were relieved when they did so, even though they grumbled about it. Your eyes scanned the faces of the group of men to see if you knew any of them, and was surprised when you found that you did.

A young man, just about your age, with sandy-brown hair and more freckles than stars in the sky, seemed to recognise you just as you did him. You jogged lightly over to meet him as he did the same, ignoring his comrades’ shouts of disapproval.

“Will. What’s going on here?” you asked, your eyebrows lowered. “What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?” You gestured to his police uniform.

William, another of your childhood friends that you had lost when you’d been first diagnosed, smiled down at you in his familiar, charming way. “God’s teeth, I didn’t think it were really you, Frisk. It’s been so long, could swear m’eyes were playing tricks on me. But I’d recognise your silver tongue through any disguise.” His eyes glanced up and down your body, almost unconsciously, and you felt a distinct disgust roll through you. You knew he probably couldn’t help himself, with the Blood Moon’s silhouette still hanging softly in the sky, but it still made your skin crawl. “So maybe the better question is why are  _ you _ dressed like  _ that _ ?”

Your lips curled involuntarily, and you searched his eyes warily. When you’d known him last, he’d been the sweetest boy in the city. Besides Zach, he’d really been the only boy your age you’d trusted. He had never treated you with anything remotely close to disrespect, even after finding out about your illness. While Zachary was telling everyone that it was for the best that you broke off your relationship, Will and your best friend Lillian were there to pick up the pieces of your heart. To remind you that not everyone would abandon you while at your worst.

Even so, you’d never heard from them after you’d been hospitalised.

It  _ was _ a shame to see him so obviously twisted with the lust of the moon.

“I’m a guard for St. Agatha’s,” you spoke with care, still using your disguised voice. “Did Zach not tell you?”

Another uncomfortably suggestive look, and his northern accented voice took on a superior drawl. “ _ You _ ? I knew they had a new guard, but I’d not thought they’d want a little lamb like you.” He took a step closer to you, and you automatically stepped away. He smirked, reaching a hand out only to have it be slapped away. You held nothing back in your strike, but he hardly seemed to notice, laughing quietly. You could feel the weight of the eyes on you, watching— _ judging _ —but you tried to ignore it. “Who could  _ you _ protect?”

**Time to cut this little reunion off, I think. We have better things to do.**

Your friend’s growling words reminded you that you likely needed to reassure the brothers as well. You glanced back, and sure enough, they were both staring, wide-eyed and angry, at Will. Beyond them, though, you took notice that the crowd of people had not only thinned considerably in the brief encounter with William, but the ones that remained had turned their eyes back to the sky.

You breathed out in relief, and gave the brothers a reassuring smile. They relaxed only marginally, their eyes shifting between you and the police and William.

You turned back to your old friend, shaking your head at him after a quick search of his eyes. You found only sharp, unmitigated lust, and you sighed, fixing him with a serious, direct gaze. “Listen to me, Will. I would very much like to catch up with you and Lilli once the Blood Moon is over. I know now that what happened all those years ago wasn’t either of your faults. You were just trying to protect your friendship with Zach. But right now, there are more important things to take care of than trying to talk you down from your moon madness.” You stood up straight and gave him a respectful nod. “Come find me at the Home when you are feeling more yourself. Bring Lilli along.”

You turned on your heel to where the brothers stood, their gloved hands clenched at their sides. You gestured for them to follow you past the staring, suspicious group of policemen. Before they took more than a few steps, though, William’s voice sounded loud and low, his tenor voice pitched down with dark laughter.

“Lilli? Oh, did Zach _ not tell you _ ?”

You looked back over your shoulder, skin prickling with suspicion. You didn’t like his tone—it warned you that you would not like what he had to say. You said nothing in response, only raising your brows.

William laughed suddenly, his head snapping back as he guffawed. “Oh, he really hasn’t changed a bit, even after all this time! Still keeping you two from each other years later.” His eyes twinkled with cruel laughter, and you lost all your patience at once.

“William, either tell me what you’re babbling about, or shut your mouth and let me be on my way,” you snapped, turning back to him as anger stung your heart. You didn’t want to be reminded of your painful past. You’d tried very hard to forget it and them and you’d be damned if your hard work would be erased with one thoughtless statement.

**What** **_is_ ** **he talking about, though?**

You  _ didn’t  _ want to think about it.

**That’s not a very healthy attitude to have.**

You really didn’t care to be healthy at the moment, thank you. You would much rather do your job and get back to the Home where you could watch over your wards.

**Later, then.**

You ground your teeth for a brief moment before shaking your head and hissing a breath through your clenched jaw. The anger was dissipating already, thankfully. You didn’t enjoy being made to feel that way.

Your eyes burned into William’s, and it felt like a battle of wills between you until finally he looked away with a laugh and a shrug. His familiar casualness was back, replacing the uncomfortably intimate look he’d had before.

“Lilli’s gone, Frisk.”

You froze at the quiet, almost defeated quality to his voice. He looked away from you with a rueful smile. You fought to keep your emotions under control as they threatened to overwhelm you.

Lilli—had she—surely, the constable would have told you if she had—?

You fought back shivers, looking down at your hands to keep yourself calm.

**_Who_ ** **is Lilli?**

…a friend.

Or she had been.

**Only a friend?**

You didn’t respond, choosing instead to shake your head and inhale deeply, shoving the maelstrom of emotions aside. Even if she  _ had _ died, there was nothing you could do about it now.

You turned your eyes back to William, exhaling softly. “I’m sorry, Will. But I just don’t have time for this.” You touched your fingertips to the pendants under your tight waistcoat. It almost physically hurt you to feel the outline of the blue opal pendant.

Lilli had given you that pendant.

William’s eyes had fallen to your hand but raised back up again when you turned to leave. “Wait, Frisk—!” You were ready to ignore him, but he leapt forward and took hold of your wrist, his leather gloves cool against your hot skin.

You spun back, ready to lash out at him the same way you had Zachary, but his sorrowful eyes gave you pause long enough for you to hear the quiet laughter beside you.

“My, my, what a passionate young man!”

You looked up to see a tall—very tall—man, smiling down at you with a breathtakingly charming face. He was incredibly pale, with straight, shoulder-length black hair, soft pink bow-shaped lips, and the bluest eyes you had ever seen in your life. They looked almost like glass, they were so clear and vibrant. But that wasn’t possible, you knew, as he was looking between you and William, his thin black brows raising slowly.

He was  _ beautiful _ .

You realised you were staring as soon as his smile softened, his eyes settling on you. Your cheeks warmed as heat flooded through your body.

**Frisk, are you feeling alright? You’re getting very warm over a** **_smile_ ** **.**

You were fine.

“If I were you—Will, was it?—I’d release the lad,” the tall man said, his smooth, deep voice falling from his lips like honeyed cream. He flashed William a particularly brilliant smile. “After all, what must your superiors being thinking, watching you paw at him while you’re  _ supposed _ to be on duty?”

“M-Mr. Coppola,” William stuttered, dropping your hand with a regretful look. “I assure you, I wasn’t intending any disrespect to—to him. We’re old pals.”

“Regardless, I think perhaps it’s time to get back to work, hm?” Mr. Coppola said, sliding an arm around your shoulders and draping his hand against you. With a gentle tug, he pulled you close to his side, his body oddly hard and unyielding. Your head spun with the heavy, musky smell of his cologne. “Good day, William.”

William’s mouth worked silently, as though he’d like to say more to you, but couldn’t find the words. You took pity on him, saying, “I’m not upset, Will. Please, come find me at the Home when you get a chance. I really would like to speak to you.”

After a visibly thick swallow, William nodded. “I’m…sorry, Frisk. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he muttered, and without waiting for a reply, turned on his heel and rejoined his fellow policemen. They quickly surrounded him, their eyes flicking suspiciously between you and him. You watched him struggle to explain himself for a moment before looking away, unable to watch anymore.

As soon as you did, though, you heard a whining growl from close behind you. Startled into a slight jump, you spun away from the strange man that still held you close. You saw that Papyrus and Sans had sneaked up on you at some point, their giant forms much more intimidating than usual. 

“Thank you for helping, but we have somewhere to be,” Sans deadpanned, his directness leaving little room for argument.

Mr. Coppola glanced up at them with an amused, somewhat patronising smile. “My goodness, who are these—brutes?”

You bristled somewhat at the man’s rudeness, as you heard your friend snort with derision. Beautiful or not, you weren’t going to listen to a stranger condescend to the brothers.

“They’re with me, sir, and I’ll thank you not to speak of them in that manner,” you snapped, your voice raising slightly out of its low pitch as you became incensed. “Now, as he said—thank you for your assistance, but perhaps next time you should be sure that your rescue is, in fact, necessary, before you push your nose into others’ business. Good afternoon.” You tipped your hat to the man before cutting past him, your heels striking hard against the smooth bricks.

You were annoyed with the entire situation. You didn’t have time to be thinking about your past, or dealing with pseudo-romantic modern heroes. You had come into this hellish city to do one thing, and you would be damned if any of these moon-mad fools would stop you.

**Goodness, I pity the constable, if he’s to deal with you while in this mood.**

You didn’t.

If it wasn’t for him giving in to his own madness, you wouldn’t be having to do this in the first place. It was really his own fault if he didn’t like your attitude.

**Sound logic. Let’s try not to get arrested, though.**

As you stormed through downtown, ignoring everything you passed by like a racehorse with blinders on, you could hear Sans and Papyrus keeping up just behind you. You knew you should reassure them about William, but you just…wanted to forget, for now. You knew you wouldn’t be able to forget forever. Sooner or later, you would have to face your past and try to reconcile it with your present and future.

You drew up to the front steps of the station, turning to the brothers quickly to ask them to wait for you. You were about to leave when Papyrus suddenly bent and drew you into a hug. You panicked briefly, knowing that it looked like two men were embracing in the middle of the city, but when you glanced around, you saw that no one was even remotely aware of you. 

There was one woman staring with mouth agape down into the plaza’s fountain as a man groped her viciously, his head buried in her neck. There was another man watching them from an alleyway, hunched over as his hand moved rhythmically inside his long coat. You looked quickly away from him to spot a woman dressed in a housemaid’s uniform walking down the street dragging a large, whole fresh haddock behind her with a vacant expression. She left a thin bloody trail behind her, though you couldn’t see if it came from the fish or the woman.

You decided not to look anymore.

You turned your face into Papyrus’s coat and breathed him in as he gave you one last squeeze, murmuring, “Be careful, please,” before releasing you.

You looked between him and Sans with a small smile. “I will be. Don’t worry—it’s just the constable. I’ve known him my whole life. He’s practically a father to me.”

The brothers exchanged a look that you couldn’t quite decipher before it was gone. “Okay, Frisk. We’ll—we’ll be just out here if you need us, though,” Papyrus said, his eyes shining bright briefly. You gave one last nod and turned to hop up the stairs two at a time. You were ready to get this done and be back at the Home.

You pulled hard on the heavy oaken doors, moving through the small foyer and stepping into the station proper to an alarming, crushing silence.

There was no one in the lobby.

The doors slipped shut behind you.

You looked around, heart thumping away in the dense quiet. You felt as though you couldn’t even breathe for fear of making too much sound.

**Is it normally this quiet?**

No.

This wasn’t normal at  _ all _ .

**…Maybe you should go back and get Sans and Papyrus.**

Yes, perhaps you should.

But you would look around first. If there was no one even around to harm you, why should you be afraid?

You kept telling yourself that as you took a step into the room, repeating it like a mantra. Why should you be afraid? Why should you be afraid?

You took another step, your heels clicking loudly on the polished stone. It echoed away into silence.

Why should you be afraid?

You’d visited this station countless times, your hand tucked inside your mother’s, and then on your own, when there was no longer a mother to comfort you. Your mother had always whispered that there was no need for fear in this place, because this was where bad people were punished under the eyes of God and man. Here, they were returned to their creator to be judged.

Why should you be afraid?

You didn’t know.

_ But you were _ .

Your shadow stretched ahead of you as you approached the solitary desk in the middle of the lobby, its usual inhabitant missing. There was only an empty chair sitting somewhat back from the desk, watching you as you crept closer. 

You began to feel faint from holding your breath.

“Hello?” you choked out.

There was no response.

You took another step, drawing flush against the desk.

Your eyes dipped to the floor when you noticed that the shadows next to the chair were odd.

There was a pair of booted feet sticking out from underneath the desk, a smear of blood on the tip of one.

They looked like a woman’s boots.

You inhaled sharply, your hands gripping onto the desk as you swayed.

“Hallo? Are you—are you alright?”

There was still no response.

The feet slowly slid out of sight.

You stared at the empty space where the feet had been, your heart hammering at your ribs now as you backed away from the desk.

**Breathe.**

You tried.

You couldn’t.

**Just go and get Sans and Papyrus. Whatever happened here is—not good.**

You nodded to no one, your eyes wide. You spun to leave, slamming bodily into something soft yet unmoving. Hands came up to your upper arms as you hissed through your teeth with fear. You struggled instinctively, but stopped when you looked up to see Zach staring down at you, his eyes empty of expression.

“Zach! What’s—what’s happened here? Where is everyone? Who is that behind the desk? Where’s your father?” you asked, before you caught sight of the state of his face. There was blood smeared across one of his cheeks, and his nose looked broken, the swollen and bruised lump on the bridge the size of a golf ball. One of his eyes looked as though it was going black as well, with a large cut across his cheekbone. His lips were split in several places, oozing blood. He didn’t even look like he noticed. “Zach, what  _ happened  _ to you?”

“Frisk,” he said, his voice even and incredibly eerie in its lack of emotion. “What are you doing here.”

“Your father called the matron at St. Agatha’s this morning, saying that he was going to send someone to guard us. Where is he? I need to speak with him.” When his hands gripped you harder, you began to squirm. He didn’t release you. “Zach, you’re hurting me. Let me go.”

**I don’t like this. We need to leave.**

“My father isn’t here.”

You squirmed harder, trying to free yourself with a little more vigour. You didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was, though, so you tried not to be too rough. “What? How could he not be here? He’s the one who agreed to meet me!” you protested, then stilled completely when a thought occurred to you. “He…wasn’t the one to do this to you, was he?”

“No,” Zach answered almost immediately, his eyes briefly flashing with anger.

You frowned, your eyebrows pulling together. “Then who—Zach,  _ who did this _ ?” A chill ran down your spine, and you whispered, “Was it that person behind the desk? Did you…hurt them, too?”

Zach’s eyes didn’t even look away from you when he said, “There isn’t anyone back there.”

“What—yes, there is—”

“There isn’t anyone back there.”

You stared up at him, another round of chills running through you. There was something  _ very wrong _ here. You needed to get out of the station  _ now _ , your instincts screamed at you.

“Okay, Zach,” you said slowly, reaching up to press your hands on his chest as he squeezed you even harder. You fought back a wince of pain. “Okay. If the constable isn’t here, I’m going to go now. I need to get back to the Home before nightfall.”

“You should stay here.”

You pushed gently on his chest, trying to get him to take the suggestion. You didn’t particularly want to hurt him, still, even though he was obviously suffering intensely from moon-madness.

**Stop being so nice! The most important thing is your safety!**

“I can’t stay,” you said, pushing a bit harder when he didn’t relent. “There is someone waiting for me outside. I have to go. Please let me go.”

“I…don’t  _ want  _ to,” Zach said, his voice slowly taking on a hint of anger. His eyes shone with feverish belief. “You can’t leave me. You belong with  _ me _ , Frisk.”

You froze with the realisation of what was causing this behaviour. You had hoped dearly that you and William were wrong about Zach—that he  _ had  _ changed, from that angry, burning, jealous boy he used to be.

But it seemed that some things would never change.

Your arms went slack.

“ _ With _ you, Zachary? Or  _ to _ you.”

As soon as your words fell into the silence crushing the room, Zach’s eyes widened, his grip loosening suddenly.

You reached up and gave him a hard, rough push, both of you stumbling away from each other. Before he could get his bearings, you knocked past him to get on the side of the room with the exit. You spun back to him with your hand on the door.

“I don’t want to see you ever again, Zachary. You made your position on where I stand in your heart perfectly clear when we were children. You let me go once— _ you can do it again _ ,” you snarled.

“Frisk, no, I’m not—”

“No! I don’t care what excuses you have.” You clenched your jaw for a moment, trying to calm yourself. “I know that this is about Lilli being gone.”

Zach’s eyes opened wide briefly, before falling back to normal, as though he was trying to hide something. Your own eyes narrowed. “No, Frisk, this isn’t—about her. It’s—true that she—she left me for—”

“It never  _ was _ about her, with you,” you cut him off wearily. You looked away from Zach’s pitiful face. “I’m finished speaking with you about this, Zach. I’m going back to the Home, and I want you to stay and help your father keep this city from tearing itself apart during the Blood Moon’s Cycle. Tell him the Home does not need his help. We look after ourselves just fine there.”

You gave him one more beat of eye contact just to be sure he understood your meaning, before you pushed through the lobby’s doors and fled from the building.

The moment the sun hit your face, you were more than ready to be out of the city. Your eyes stung as you stumbled down the steps, storming past Sans and Papyrus without a word. You heard them call after you, but you were trying too hard to hold yourself together and not let your tears fall. You knew you shouldn’t let the disappointment and emotional turmoil of the day affect you so deeply, but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted to go  _ home _ .

As you rounded a sharp corner, your thoughts like a thunderhead, you nearly barrelled straight into another pedestrian. You yelped and drew yourself away from the white-suited man, your head snapping back instinctively as you made to apologise.

You ended up simply gaping, though, when you saw who you had nearly collided with.

“Well, hello there! What a coincidence for us to meet again like this.”

Mr. Coppola stood over you, his charming smile nearly taking your breath away. The moment he caught sight of the state of you, though, his face fell dramatically.

“But darling!” He reached out to you, his gloved hand stroking a soft line across your cheekbone and catching the tear that had spilled over despite your best efforts. “Who has brought tears to such beautiful…beautiful _ eyes _ ?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: tea for two...four...seven?
> 
> A timblr, a tamblr, a green and yellow tumblr~
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	25. Nice Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a nice, quick chat with Zachary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAAAAAA-AAAAACK
> 
> Not necessarily with a vengeance, but definitely maybe possibly back. First of all, got some FANAAAAART FOR YAAAAA'LL
> 
>  
> 
> [ Someone is Watching by HibernalBeast ](http://hibernalbeast.tumblr.com/post/145280214075/oyeeee-i-am-a-beast-alright-so-more-fanart)  
> [ Moths to a Flame in Colour by LeChatSarrat ](http://lechatsarrat.deviantart.com/art/MothsToAFlame-612462659)
> 
>  
> 
> As always, give love and support to the artists, because what they do is so crazy good that it constantly blows my mind.
> 
> Speaking of constantly blowing my mind, I wanted to thank all of you SO MUCH for your support and readership! Because when I get doubts, seeing how much you guys enjoy this always helps me find just that little bit of motivation to keep going. I am so, so grateful for all of you. 
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> <3

“I don’t like this,” Papyrus muttered the moment Frisk was out of sight, his eyes narrowed on the police station door shutting behind her. He’d been saying it all day, but Sans didn’t blame him for the repetition.

Sans wasn’t exactly happy with the situation either. He’d been holding himself back from violence all day, though he’d been sorely tempted, with the lunatics in the city staring hungrily at his—Papyrus’s—just…just  _ Frisk _ . Not to mention the duo of that overly familiar man and Frisk’s old friend, both of them  _ touching _ and  _ disrespecting  _ her. It had been fairly difficult for him to just let Frisk deal with both of them, though he knew she could protect herself just fine.

So when they’d arrived at the station only for Sans to hear that there were only two people inside, he’d known that something bad would happen. But he’d kept quiet, only shooting Papyrus a look to let him know that something was very wrong inside. He’d never known a police station to be so empty, especially in the city. So he’d listened very carefully, his magic sparking to life as he tried his best to decipher who was inside.

He’d immediately recognised the stuttering, irregular heartbeat of the human on the upper floor.  _ Zachary _ . He’d tried to call out to Frisk to tell her, but the words had petered out to a frustrated growl when he’d seen she was already ducking inside.

His hands gripped into fists with mounting frustration. He wanted to follow her inside and make sure the other person was the constable. He was  _ supposed _ to be looking after her. The matron had asked him to keep her safe. What was he supposed to do when she didn’t want their help?

“Believe me, ‘Pyrus, I don’t like this any more than you do.”

He saw Papyrus turn to him out of the corner of his eye. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice wary. “I saw the way you were looking at the building. It isn’t…dangerous, is it?”

Sans shook his head slowly, trying not to distract himself too much. He was listening to the other heartbeat racing alongside Frisk’s, now. Zachary was still upstairs, his heart rate steady except for the stutter, so if that was the constable, then something very bad must have happened. Sans had heard the beating of a terrified heart many times in his life. He could recognise the pattern in his sleep.

The other person was afraid for their life.

He was already striding towards the entrance before Papyrus stopped him with a hand on his elbow. He looked back to see his brother’s brow drawn together under his hat.

“What is it?” Papyrus asked quietly, bending close to Sans so they could speak privately.

Not that it mattered, with the mental state of the city-dwellers as it was. It was extremely unlikely that anyone would notice anything they said or did, even if they weren’t in disguise.

“I don’t know,” Sans responded, his voice automatically going soft anyway. “But something is very wrong here. Frisk is scared and there is someone in there with her who is afraid for their life.”

“What, why?” Papyrus whispered, his head snapping around to watch the door intently. “Should we go in there?”

“I don’t know,” Sans repeated, anger giving his words an edge. Papyrus swayed on his feet for a moment before he dropped into a short pace, slow at first but quickening the longer the silence stretched between them. Sans could tell that Papyrus was gripped with the same indecision he was: should they go inside and against Frisk’s wishes, or should they stay outside and possibly risk her safety?

Then Zachary’s heartbeat moved towards Frisk until they were close enough for the sounds to mingle, and Sans was much less indecisive than before.

“‘Pyrus, I have to go in there.”

Papyrus gave a rumbling, growling whine under his breath, and Sans glanced over to see that he was staring off into the distance, his eyes narrowed and his pupils wide.

“He’s back, Sans. That odd man.”

Sans’s head whipped around to follow Papyrus’s line of sight, and though he didn’t have the best eyes, he wouldn’t be able to mistake the man lurking at the corner of a nearby building for anyone else. The off-putting white suit gave him away.

Papyrus made a sound of disgust. “He gives me the creeps.”

Sans studied the man for another moment before looking over to his brother. “He doesn’t seem so odd to me. Definitely too familiar. Definitely needs to ease up on the cologne. But I don’t think he’s dangerous, ‘Pyrus.” He glanced back at the entrance to the station, his soul clenching with worry as he focused in on Frisk’s heartbeat again. “Unlike some people.” It was racing faster than ever, along with the other two in there with her.

He decided it was about time for him to interrupt, despite his misgivings.

He’d only taken a few steps toward the steps of the station, though, when Frisk burst from the front doors.

“Frisk?” Papyrus called out to her as she practically fell down the stairs and swept past them, ignoring both of them completely. Sans and Papyrus shared a quick, alarmed look before Papyrus strode after her, calling her name again, to no avail.

Sans watched them go before turning to see Zachary staring down at him from the open station door, his expression guilty and scared.

Sans’s magic flared angrily in his soul, and he knew Zachary could see the burning of it in his eyes.

Sans hoped he saw death in them.

Without a word, Zachary fled, slamming the door behind him. 

Sans heard the lock clicking into place, and smiled.

He took the steps three at a time, placed his hands on either side of the doors and simply  _ pressed _ . The wood splintered and broke around the lock, the hinges whining under the pressure. Finally the doors burst open, giving way under his strength. He stepped inside casually, his eyes lighting on Zachary immediately.

Zachary was obviously  _ intensely _ frightened, as he banged back against the desk, his eyes wide and wild. He was scrabbling for something to use against Sans, but only finding loose papers. Sans could smell the fear in his sweaty, disgusting body, mingling with the acrid smell of blood, rot, and…flowers?

Ah.

Well, it made little difference to Sans whether the boy was under his master’s influence.

When it came to reaping, Sans wasn’t interested in knowing the motives and life history of each of his victims.

He just  _ reaped _ .

“Hello, Zachary.”

Sans’s hollow voice echoed in the empty foyer, deceptively calm as he stood opposite the boy, his vision tainted with the blood magic seeping into his soul. Zachary made a choked, gurgling sound, and Sans could hear his laboured breathing from across the room.

“Would you care to explain yourself?”

Zachary’s sweat-coated brow rose and met in the middle, his jaw hanging loose with fear. “I don’t know—what you’re—” he gasped.

“Not interested in saving your own life?” Sans interrupted, striding forward with a smile. He loosened the scarf from around his mouth, took off his gloves,  and opened his jaw wide as he snatched the suddenly scampering, fleeing boy by the throat. “That’s fine by me!” he said, lifting Zachary enough that he could only barely touch the floor with the tips of his shoes. Zachary wheezed and clawed at Sans’s arms. His eyes bugged out of his head as he mouthed something wordlessly, the stench of his fear choking Sans this close to it. Sans leaned in, letting his eyes burn bright with anger. “I don’t need to know what you did to Frisk. I’ll be happy just to finally get to _kill_ _you_.”

“N-no!” a voice cried, high and soft. Sans looked over to see a woman standing behind the desk—very short, with curly, honey-blonde hair, and eyes that were currently wide with fear—holding her hands palm-out in supplication. “Please, don’t kill him!”

Sans froze, narrowing his eye sockets at the girl and letting his jaw click shut once more. He didn’t quite know how to react, if he was honest. The sudden appearance of the woman had thrown him a bit. From the state of the woman’s face and clothes—rips along her long, drab schoolmistress’s dress and deep, bloody scratches marring one of her cheeks, alongside a slight bruise on her forehead, as though she’d head-butted something—to the fact that she stared down Sans with little to no obvious fear despite her racing heartbeat, all made him somewhat curious.

Who was this woman, that she would face down a nightmare to save the life of a wretch like Zachary?

“ _ Please _ ,” she said, obviously misinterpreting his curiosity as reluctance.

Sans narrowed his eyes further, and locked eyes with the woman in a mock-battle of wills.

Not even Frisk had been this brave when she’d first seen him.

He decided to see how far her courage really went.

“Okay,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. With a sudden wrenching heave, he tossed Zachary several feet in the air, ignoring the screams as he called on his blood magic. A mass of writhing, wriggling tendrils burst forth from the gaping void opening on the ceiling, whipping down to grasp at Zachary’s arms and torso. Another smaller, wider tendril slid around his mouth, muffling his protests. He swung, suspended like a marionette, his legs kicking uselessly as he struggled against his restraints. 

With a small, humourless smile, Sans whistled for his blasters.

Through the sound of Zachary’s muffled, guttural screams, Sans could hear them galloping closer and closer. Finally, with a deafening roar from the twin void-holes swirling into existence on either side of the foyer, the blasters burst forth, their bloody, twitching limbs stamping like an eager hound’s as they slid to a stop in front of Sans.

He gave each of them a pat and gestured for them to have fun with the dangling man.

Their split, twisting tongues lolled from their maws in an approximation of a smile.

As Sans turned away to face the woman again, who was now pressed back against the wall with a horrified expression, he could hear the blasters snapping and growling happily at Zachary’s dangling feet behind him.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t let them tear both of you to bits right now.”

The woman’s wide, tearful eyes shot back and forth between him and his blasters as they continued to nip at the man playfully. Their skulls clattered together as they fell over each other in their enthusiasm.

“Going once,” he said, holding up a finger.

“Y-you wouldn’t hurt me,” the woman stuttered, a bit of bravery returning to her soft, feminine voice. “I’ve seen you taking men. I know what you are— _ what you do _ —and you don’t hurt women.”

Sans’s brows raised of their own accord. Another human who thought they knew him, and what he was capable of. Hm. Perhaps he’d been getting a little irresponsible lately, if so many people had seen him doing his job. “Just because I  _ don’t _ hurt women, doesn’t mean I  _ can’t _ . Sorry, try again.”

The woman took a hesitant step forward, looking around the room as if to see if there was another exit, before her eyes settled on Sans again. “I—you don’t want to kill him. He’s the constable’s son. If you hurt him, you’ll have the entire city’s police force coming to find you.”

“Oh, good, maybe it would bring the old bastard out of hiding.” Sans laughed and shook his head. “I know exactly who he is.”

“You’re looking for the constable, too?” the woman asked, her voice going quietly suspicious.

Sans narrowed his eyes again. “Not me. A friend.”

 Her eyes widened and her lips parted in an ‘o,’ as though she’d just realised something. “ _ Frisk _ is…your friend?”

Sans just studied her face for a moment. “You know Frisk?”

The woman’s eyes lit up noticeably, before she seemed to attempt to rein her emotions in. When she spoke, there was a forced casualness to her words. “Yes, I—I used to know her. She was my—”

Before she could say how she was related to Frisk, though, the sound of Zachary giving a wild cry followed by a sharp thud rang out behind him. Sans swung around to see one of his blasters skid across the tiled floor, a heavy crack on the side of its skull where Zachary had presumably kicked it.

Sans saw red.

His blood magic manifested along his left arm, wending through his bones as he stormed over to the hanging man. Just as he lifted it to strike through Zachary’s heart, the woman’s cry of, “No,  _ please _ —Frisk wouldn’t want you to hurt him!” stopped him dead in his tracks.

Staring into Zachary’s wide, but strangely defiant eyes, Sans grit his teeth and fought back against the swell of anger in his soul. It was urging him to  _ kill _ —drain the boy of his blood and harvest his flesh.

He took a slow, shaky breath, the slightly humid air cooling his soul.

“And  _ how _ would you know what Frisk would want?” he bluffed, still holding Zachary in his burning gaze.

The woman dashed from behind the desk, her boot heels clicking on the floor in her haste. She wrung her hands slightly as she stepped near the blasters, who growled at her presence. “Because a long time ago, she and I were…also friends.” She hesitated at the word ‘friend,’ and though she tried to mask it, Sans had not missed the clue. Coupled with the fact that the woman obviously knew Frisk beyond her disguise, it was getting Sans incredibly curious to know just who she was.

But that wasn’t really important, in the end.

What  _ was _ important was whether or not Sans would allow himself to indulge in his anger, and remove Zachary as a threat.

“Please,” the woman said, her desperation drawing Sans’s gaze to her own, “I know he doesn’t deserve mercy. But Frisk would never demand his life for what he’s done to her.”

As she spoke, Sans caught a swelling of deep blue at her chest, and he realised that her soul was vibrating with intensity inside her. He focused on her eyes, afraid to look away in case he was drawn into the sight.

After a few moments of tense silence in which he fought against his instincts, he sighed in defeat and silently commanded his blasters to return to the void. They whined, but obeyed, galloping back through their respective void-holes. The woman looked incredibly relieved to see that she had convinced him, and he decided he’d had enough of dealing with Frisk’s old friends.

“You should get out of here before I change my mind,” he muttered, deeply frustrated with the situation.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather see Zachary free first,” the woman said, her eyes flashing with steel for a moment despite her polite words.

Sans sighed again, though it was more growl than anything. “ _ Fine _ .” With a clench of his left hand, the magic tendrils unwrapped from Zachary, dropping him to the floor unceremoniously. Zachary groaned and collapsed in a heap. Sans grunted with disgust. “Now  _ go _ .” He glanced over at the woman, his voice softening slightly. “I’m betting you weren’t hiding behind that desk for no reason.”

The woman seemed taken aback by his astuteness. He just grinned crookedly.

“I—thank you,” she said, nodding gratefully and marching from the lobby before Zachary had lifted himself to his feet, stumbling in his haste. She never looked back.

Sans let Zachary attempt to follow the woman for a few brief, amusing moments, before striding forward and clapping his hand hard on the man’s shoulder. “Well, Zachary, that’s yet another time Frisk has saved your life,” Sans said in a faux-jolly tone, glaring down at him. Zachary only returned the glare and tried to twist out of Sans’s grasp. Sans just gripped harder. “Admittedly this was by proxy, but still. Don’t you think the least you owe her is to respect her wish to be left alone?”

Zachary gasped at the strength of Sans’s grip, speaking through his gritted teeth. “I will  _ never  _ leave them to the likes of  _ you _ , demon. I will fight to save them from you down to my last breath.”

Sans smiled and gripped hard enough for the tips of his fingers to break through the man’s skin. Spots of blood immediately bloomed on his white shirt, and he thrashed to get free with a growling, feral whine. “If you insist.”

With one more deep, piercing squeeze, Sans released Zachary. Watching the boy scramble to put distance between the two of them, Sans snorted. “It’s been good seeing you again, Zachary.” He tipped his hat mockingly. “I’ll give Frisk your regards.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least Sans didn't leave him hanging A HA-A HA-A HA
> 
> Next up, the tea for real, because I apparently don't put in enough interim chapters.
> 
> Westley, what about the T.U.M.B.L.R.s?
> 
> The tumblrs? I don't think they exist.
> 
> RRRRRRRRR -- [tellcosy.tumblr.com](http://tellcosy.tumblr.com)


	26. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a lot to say this time, you guys, other than I love you all and thank you for continuing to read! You are all so awesome.

Sans expected to have to make good use of his tracking skills to find Frisk and Papyrus, but he certainly wasn’t disappointed when it turned out he didn’t have to.

When he emerged from the station, his scarf positioned over his face and his gloves donned once more, he was pleasantly surprised to see them strolling through the plaza in front of the station. A not-so-pleasant surprise for him was seeing the off-putting fop walking beside them. Frisk looked much happier than when she had run away, though, and even Papyrus didn’t seem quite as upset with the man as he had before.

A bolt of suspicion struck Sans, but he pushed it aside, descending the rest of the stairs with a forced cheerfulness. He didn’t want Frisk to suspect he had hurt Zachary. More than he actually had, at least.

“Sans!” Frisk called as he approached them, her face lighting up in a way that made his soul stutter. She looked relieved to see him, and somewhat sheepish, as she jogged over to meet him. She stopped just in front of him, cheeks pink and eyes bright as her breath puffed in the cold air between them. She seemed slightly out of breath for some reason as her eyes met his, and he wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and hug her close, just to be sure Zachary hadn’t actually hurt her.

He tucked his hands in his trousers instead.

“Sans, there you are. Papyrus wasn’t sure where you had gone,” Frisk said, smiling nervously.

Sans studied her face, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. He was glad the scarf covered it up, though, when the man and Papyrus caught up.

“Yes—Sans, is it?—you certainly know how to worry your employer,” Mr. Coppola said in a subtly sneering voice, and Sans reluctantly turned his eyes to the man when Frisk winced. The black-haired man was smiling wide, his oddly glassy eyes bright as he gazed back at Sans. “Shouldn’t a good servant always stay with their master?”

Sans flinched back the barest amount, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. There was something about the man’s choice of words that set off alarm bells in Sans’s mind. He said nothing in response, choosing instead to simply stare at him, until his smug smile faltered.

Sans’s smile grew.

“Mr. Coppola, I believe I’ve already told you once before that I don’t appreciate you speaking to them in such a way,” Frisk cut in, turning to the man with a dark, reproving look.

Mr. Coppola’s face immediately shifted to one of bashful charm, and Sans’s mouth twitched with annoyance at the sight. Who  _ was _ this man? Why was he so interested in Frisk that he followed her— _ waited _ for her?

Sans glanced over at Papyrus to see his brother watching the man with similarly narrowed eyes. Good. So it wasn’t just Sans.

“I apologise, my dear. I’m afraid my sensibilities do run away with me on occasion, especially when in the presence of such a  _ well-bred _ individual. Forgive me?”

Sans expected Frisk to tell the man to drop off a cliff, but as he watched with open surprise, something in her face shifted subtly, and she smiled. “I forgive you, Mr. Coppola. Just don’t do it again, please,” she said, her voice going nearly as soft as her usual tone.

Sans stared at her, his brows meeting as his face twisted with concern.

_ What _ ?

It had almost sounded as if she was flirting.

“My dear, please, call me Matteo. All my… _ friends _ do.”

A small, barely audible growl drifted from Papyrus’s direction, and Frisk suddenly blinked and looked somewhat guilty, her eyes darting away from the man. Sans was confused by the entire situation, and it annoyed him. He didn’t understand what had changed in the time it took him to deal with Zachary, but something was definitely not right. Papyrus was clearly upset, and Frisk kept glancing at the man as though she couldn’t help herself. 

As though she was  _ compelled _ to.

His soul clenching with sudden dread, Sans took a deep breath. Sure enough, his nose caught the sweet, heady smell of Frisk’s arousal, though it was faint enough that it could simply be the effect of the moon.

Somehow, Sans didn’t believe that, though.

“Well, it’s been a nice  _ coincidence _ to meet you again, Mr. Coppola, but it’s about time we left for home,” Sans said sternly, his tone leaving little room for discussion.

“Ah,  _ actually _ , Frisk, I was just about to invite you and your— _ entourage _ —to tea at my home.” Sans frowned as Frisk seemed to waver, looking wistful. He caught Papyrus’s eye and saw that his brother was just as concerned with Frisk’s indecision. “Please accept. It’s the least I could do, considering the horrible afternoon you’ve had in the city.”

With those words, Sans suddenly realised what was so eerie about the man. He spoke with a clear, crisp voice that carried a honeyed edge, like a spider’s web glistening with nectar. It was very deliberate, though he hid it well. And that deliberateness betrayed the simple difference between him and any normal human. He was clearly in control of himself. His actions. His emotions.

He wasn’t affected by the Waking Moon.

As though he could hear Sans’s thoughts about him, Mr. Coppola’s eyes flitted up to Sans, and a slow, sly smile spread across his face. Sans only gave another direct, unwavering stare in response, but the man didn’t back down this time. Sans felt an odd burst of viciousness inside him, and he had the thought that he’d like to tear the man’s smug face right off his skull.

He clenched his hands, and growled, “No, thank you, we  _ need to get home _ .”

Sans instantly regretted the words—or at least his lack of control over his own anger—when Frisk turned to him with a shocked, suspicious face. Her eyes quickly studied his face, and he tried to convey his distrust of the man without words. Then her eyes flicked over his shoulder and widened for a split second, before returning to his face, now narrowed. He flinched internally. She had obviously noticed the state of the doors of the station and would now be leaping to conclusions that may or may not be true.

He shook his head ever-so-slightly, but that didn’t seem to get the right message across that  _ no _ , he hadn’t killed Zachary, because instead of looking relieved, she just looked even more incensed.

“Thank you, Matteo,” Frisk said, her eyes still on Sans. “That sounds lovely.”

Sans felt as though his soul dropped straight out of his body when he saw the predatory pleasure that crossed the man’s face at Frisk’s words.

He couldn’t let her go into this man’s home.

“Excellent, my dear. Come, then, I’ll lead the way.”

Before Sans could reach out and stop her, Frisk had turned on her heel and marched over to walk beside Mr. Coppola, her cheeks red with annoyance.

Sans sighed softly and dropped his hand back to his side, following the two reluctantly. Papyrus fell in place beside him, their arms softly  _ tack _ ing together even with the cloth of their jackets muffling their bones. Frisk and Mr. Coppola walked far enough ahead that Sans could only hear soft murmurs between them without straining his hearing to listen in. He sighed and glanced over at Papyrus, who was glaring at the two of them.

“Today hasn’t been great for us, has it?”

Papyrus startled, then sighed as well, his back straightening as he did so. “Nooo,” he whined under his breath, a short growl capping the end of the word. “N-no it hasn’t.” He turned his eyes to Sans, a slightly mischievous edge to his sudden smile. “Did you at least do something about that—that—” He made a face and gestured back towards the station.

Sans huffed with laughter. “If by  _ something _ you mean kill him, then no. There was, ah—there was a girl in there, too. The other person I told you about? The one who was scared? She knows Frisk.”

Papyrus’s steps faltered, and his eyes went wide. “Who was she?”

“I don’t know,” Sans mused, tapping his finger against his hip from inside his pocket as he thought about the flaxen-haired girl. “But she was hiding from Zachary. She only jumped out to stop me when I was about to kill him.”

When Papyrus’s only response was to raise his brow bones, Sans told him the rest of what the girl and Zachary had said to him. When he finished, Papyrus made a soft, thoughtful hum. “Sans, you don’t—you don’t suppose  _ she _ was that girl Frisk got upset about, do you?”

It was Sans’s turn to raise his brows at his brother.

“You know? The one the other boy was talking about? Oh, what—what was her name—”

Sans’s mind scrambled to remember, and with a triumphant feeling as he finally grasped the memory, he said, “Lilli. Her name was Lilli.”

Papyrus nodded, clenching his hands together. “Do you think—?”

“It might be.”

“But didn’t that boy say she was gone?”

“He did.”

“What are the odds of it, do you think?”

“When Frisk is involved?” Sans noted with a small laugh, his eyes on Frisk’s back as she giggled at something the man said to her. Her cheeks were now flushed with an entirely different emotion than annoyance, and it soured Sans’s mood. “Pretty damn high, I’d say.”

Papyrus looked distinctly uncomfortable with the sight of Frisk practically flirting so openly in front of him, and Sans’s mood plummeted even further. He bit back a growl, choosing instead to grasp his brother’s hand very briefly, giving it a tight, comforting squeeze. Papyrus returned his tight grip with a grateful, lopsided smile before they both let go. “What should we do, if she is the same person?” he asked.

Sans shook his head once. “I don’t know, ‘Pyrus. That’s up to Frisk, I think.”

Papyrus nodded again, looking away from the sight of Frisk and Mr. Coppola with a miserable expression. Sans had to ball the cloth of his trouser pockets in his hands to keep from leaping forward and slamming the man’s head in, just for making Papyrus unhappy. He didn’t know what Frisk was thinking, acting like this, but at least she was being affected by the moon-madness. That man  _ wasn’t _ . Everything he did was so  _ deliberate _ that it just gave Sans a bad feeling. He couldn’t believe he had just been saying to Papyrus that the man seemed normal.

That made his thoughts grind to a halt for a moment, though his feet continued to follow the two as they crossed a street.

“Hey,” he murmured to Papyrus, his eyes narrowed on Mr. Coppola. They seemed to be getting near to their destination, if the man’s sweeping gestures towards one of the houses was any indication. “Do you know how you told me earlier that that man gives you the creeps?”

Papyrus gave a small nod. “Yeah, I do. It…I’m not sure what it is about him. He’s very…wrong, somehow. Very eerie. But when I try to figure it out, it’s like I just can’t pinpoint  _ why _ .”

“What did you talk about when I was in the police station?” Sans asked, his curiosity colouring his words. He couldn’t help but remember how Papyrus had seemed much calmer, more accepting of the man, when he had come out of the station.

Papyrus gave a little shrug. “Not much. He kept talking about Frisk’s eyes—complimenting them—and saying how cruel it was to make someone as beautiful as her upset.”

Sans’s neck protested when his head snapped to face his brother. “He said that? Beautiful?” When Papyrus confirmed, he grunted with concern. “Do you think he knows she’s not a man, then?”

“I don’t  _ think _ so,” Papyrus said, seeming to mull over the question. They were approaching the house that the man had gestured to, and Sans knew they had to wrap up their conversation fast. “He said a lot of things like that about  _ me _ , too, come to think of it. I think that might just be how he is.”

Sans’s jaw clenched at the thought of the man beguiling his brother and Frisk. “You might be right. But let’s keep a sharp eye during this, anyway, alright?”

Papyrus just nodded, as they were already to the steps of the large townhouse, situated in what was clearly the wealthy part of town. Mr. Coppola opened the door with a flourish and Frisk stepped inside out of their line of sight. When Sans climbed the stairs and made to push past the man, though, he held out a suited arm over the doorway and gave a tight smile.

“Oh, I’m  _ sorry _ , I should have mentioned that the servants’ entrance is through the basement.”

He pointed over to another, tiny door in the side of the stairway, and when Sans looked down to it, slipped inside and made to shut the door in their faces. 

Acting purely on instinct, Sans reached his hand out and slammed it against the closing door, sending it flying open again.

Mr. Coppola spluttered indignantly, his eyes sparking with anger as he clearly wound himself up to go on a rant to Sans. Frisk’s soft voice stopped him dead, though, as she said, “They are not  _ your  _ servants, Mr. Coppola, and I won’t have them anywhere but at my side, while I’m in the city. I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience, but I am quite firm on that. We can leave if it bothers you to be around them.”

Mr. Coppola stared Sans and Papyrus down as they stood in the doorway, smiling behind their scarves. Finally he relented with a disgusted ‘ _ tch _ ’ and stepped aside, letting them through. Sans tried to wordlessly convey his pleasure at Frisk’s care, but she just gave him an unimpressed blink.

He sighed internally. He would have to apologise for what she thought he’d done to Zachary before she would stop being annoyed with him, it seemed.

“Come along, then,” Mr. Coppola spoke with a gentle, yet theatrical sigh. “My mother and brothers will be waiting.”

“Mother?” Frisk asked, just as Papyrus and Sans asked,

“Brothers?”

Mr. Coppola threw another of his sly smiles their way, bending at the waist the barest amount as he gestured for them to enter the hall in front of them.

Sans was pleased to see Frisk checking that he and Papyrus were close by before she continued deeper into the large, stately home, her heels clicking softly on the polished wooden floors.

“It’s just upstairs, darling. We take our tea in Mother’s room, these days.”

With a frown, Sans glanced around the home as the three of them followed Frisk. It was obviously the house of a wealthy man, with high ceilings covered in intricate plasterwork, a very large sitting room filled with expensive-looking furniture, a dining room further down the hall, and a large carpeted stairway that they continued on to the other floors above. There was even a small chandelier hanging in the foyer, though Sans couldn’t tell if the crystals were real or not. It didn’t particularly matter, he thought, considering the size of the house itself spoke volumes for the wealth of the family.

Still, there was something very  _ off _ about it, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Was it the silence? No, he’d been in plenty of houses that were silent as the grave, though people still moved about. Was it the fact that the curtains were all drawn? Mm, maybe so, but again, he’d seen plenty of people closing their curtains during a Blood Moon, thinking it would save them from their urges. No, the fact of the matter was, he just couldn’t pinpoint why the house felt so  _ wrong _ . At least, not until he rested his gloved hand on the bannister, sliding it along as they reached another landing. 

Dust fell to the runner carpet and settled in a soft pile. 

Sans’s frown deepened.

What kind of well-to-do house wouldn’t have a housekeeper?

Sans had a  _ very _ bad feeling about this.

“It’s just this room here, darling,” Mr. Coppola purred, sidestepping Sans and Papyrus and catching up to Frisk to hold a door open for her. His eyes were heavily lidded as he smiled down at Frisk, and Sans thought he could hear her breath catch.

“Matteo? Is that you?”

From inside the room came a nasal, yet gravelly voice that reminded Sans much of how he imagined a witch to sound. It sounded painfully familiar, but before he could place who it might belong to, they were being gestured inside. Sans was glad to see that Frisk at least hesitated before leading the way into the dimly-lit room.

Good. Some of her caution remained, at least.

He and Papyrus followed after Mr. Coppola to find themselves in a tall, large bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall that were currently covered with heavy embroidered curtains, an oversized four-post bed centred against the near wall, and tall wooden wardrobes built into the side wall. 

Standing by the mirrored dressing table and roll-top desk against the remaining wall were two short, seemingly-identical young men. Their ghost-pale faces and large, wide eyes were turned to the newcomers, their bloodless lips parted with surprise. They had similarly-styled mops of black hair on top of their oval-shaped faces, though there were slight enough differences to aid in telling the two apart. They both held themselves with extreme stiffness, as though they were puppets whose strings were held taut by their master.

Sans didn’t spend much time studying the awkward set of twins, though, when he heard a wet, wheezing cough from the bed at his right. He turned to see the hunched, veiled figure of what he assumed was the man’s mother, sitting in the middle of the bed with her back against the mass of pillows at the headboard. He could hardly tell a thing about the woman, though, considering she was covered from head-to-toe, every part of her obscured, including her face. Her small body was tucked under the thick duvet and quilted topper, and over her head draped a dark muslin veil, trailing down her humped back.

Even her hands were covered by delicate black gloves.

“Who…is t-this, Matteo?” the woman asked, her creaking voice sounding urgent and nervous as her head turned in the direction of Sans and Papyrus.

Sans’s soul hummed softly with a vague recognition, but he was distracted by the woman’s sudden hacking cough. As soon as she did, Mr. Coppola raced to the dressing table to retrieve a strange, small cone from a drawer and placed it upon a flat stone, striking up a match and holding it to the tip of the cone until it flared up. The twin boys both looked frozen in place as their eyes flicked between their mother and brother. 

“Apologies, Mother, I should have called ahead to tell you I was bringing company,” Mr. Coppola said in a loud, insincere concerned voice. He blew out the flame on the cone and white smoke trailed from the tip in a steady stream. Sans’s brows rose with confusion as he watched, and he glanced over to Papyrus to see if he knew what the purpose of that had been.

But then the smell hit him.

He reeled back before he could stop himself, the smoke drifting lazily through his nasal cavity and practically choking him. Eucalyptus and sandalwood overpowered everything else, until he could smell that and  _ only _ that. He tried not to make any sound, but he couldn’t help the wheeze that escaped him.

He blinked and looked over to Frisk when he heard her laugh under her breath. She was smiling up at him with a surprisingly gentle, amused look in her eyes. Sans’s soul clenched and throbbed hard.

“It’s incense,” she explained, her voice soft and private. “From the Orient. It can help with certain ailments.”

“Yes,” Mr. Coppola said, his eyes sharp as he looked between Sans and Papyrus. Sans didn’t miss the flash of anger before it was buried under charm again. He came to stand between Frisk and his mother’s bed, a hand resting on the duvet. “My mother suffers from a debilitating condition. It has rendered her near blind, with a heavy aversion to sunlight and too frail to leave her bed without aid. I have spent my life dedicated to finding a cure.”

“I’m so sorry,” Frisk said sympathetically, speaking directly to the woman herself. “If it is too much of an imposition for us to be here, we can go—”

“No!” the woman croaked, reaching out a gloved hand in Frisk’s direction. Startled, Frisk jerked out of the woman’s reach, but stopped when she continued in a quieter voice, “No, please, my dear. Stay. It will do my old heart good to have such fine company.”

Frisk, looking a bit unsure, reached her own hand over to the woman’s and took hold of it as she said, “If you’re sure—” before her whole body stiffened, her eyes widening with shock. Sans saw Papyrus move to separate them before Frisk seemed to gather herself enough to continue with, “then—we’ll stay. For a cup of tea.”

Sans stared intently at Frisk’s face to see if he could determine why she’d paused, but she might as well have been wearing a mask, now. Her expression was one of perfect calm as Mr. Coppola clapped his hands once with pleasure.

“Excellent! I knew you and Mother would get along, darling,” the man said, his smile wide on his face once more. Sans’s mouth twisted with slight repulsion at how presumptuous the man was, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “Nero, Maddalena, would you please go fetch the tea?”

The twins—one of whom was evidently a young woman—nodded and left the room in a hurry, their gait just as stiff as their posture. Meanwhile, Mr. Coppola was pulling over a chair from the far wall for Frisk to sit in, which she did with a small smile, her hand still gripping the woman’s. Mr. Coppola himself perched on the edge of the bed, one of his knees crooked up so that he could turn fully away from Sans and Papyrus, effectively closing them out of the conversation.

He exchanged a look with Papyrus, and they both shook their heads, stepping away until their backs were against the wall.

If they couldn’t talk, then they would  _ watch _ .

Sans didn’t know what was wrong with these people, but there was no doubt in his mind that they would eventually make a wrong move.

And when they did, he and Papyrus would be ready.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Frisk meets the parents.
> 
> AHAH! HERE'S TEH PROBELM
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> TOO MANY TUMBLRS
> 
> YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY
> 
> ALL TUMBLRS TOAST TOAST


	27. Flee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea and flee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not much to say besides thank you guys for reading, I love you all, and FAAAAANAAAAAAARRRRRT
> 
> [ Zachary, stop. by HibernalBeast ](http://hibernalbeast.tumblr.com/post/145828143670/yet-another-inspiring-moment-from-moths-to-a-flame)  
> aaaaand  
> [This lovely, creepy fanart by crowbutter ](http://crowbutter.tumblr.com/post/145654489882/i-am-reading-this-fanfic-and-its-making-me-go)
> 
> Go give love and support to the artists you guuuys! They are so cool and talented that it rocks my cute little socks!
> 
> <3

**I’m sorry for overreacting.**

You didn’t think they were overreacting in the slightest.

**I should be used to this by now.**

They had no way of knowing, really.

**I suppose I didn’t. It’s not as if they look like monsters.**

Exactly.

Your friend couldn’t have known.

“So, Mister—Frisk, was it?”

You brought the painted china teacup to your lips, keeping your gaze trained on the general space where it seemed the woman’s eyes would be. Or where they would be if she wasn’t a  _ monster _ woman, you supposed. You had no way of knowing whether she even  _ had _ eyes under that veil.

It didn’t really matter, you thought. Either way, you would need to make it seem like you had no idea that the woman was practically dripping with the taint of Sans’s and Papyrus’s master. You had to make it seem like your hands weren’t still shaking with the blood-curdling cry your friend had loosed as soon as you’d touched the woman’s hand.

You had to make it seem like you hadn’t seen a vision of grasping, writhing arms all reaching for you through a veil of darkness, rolling and bulging eyes underneath the skin stretched across cracked bones that were shaped all  _ wrong _ .

Simple.

You were always quite good at playing pretend at tea parties when you were a little girl.

You would be even better at it now.

“Frisk is my given name, madam—”

“Oh, please, I’m no madam,” the woman interrupted, coughing with wet laughter. You thought you saw a small glob of something red land on the inside of the veil, but you looked away before you could get a closer look. Your stomach was turning enough as it was, attempting to drink the tepid, flavourless tea the twins had handed over to you.

**What were you expecting? Perfectly brewed black tea with milk on the side? They’re monsters—you’re lucky you didn’t get blood on the side.**

Your lips thinned briefly with the thought, staring into your cup. They didn’t know that Mr. Coppola was a monster, or the twins.

Still.

You didn’t think tea would taste very good with blood.

“You should call me Alvise, dear.”

You glanced back up at the woman with a small, tight smile. “Alvise, then. Frisk is  _ my _ given name, so you can use that if you wish.”

“You sound quite familiar, Frisk,” the woman said, her croaking voice preceding the curious tilt of her head. “What’s your family name? I feel as if I know you.”

You hesitated only long enough to ask if it was alright with your friend before saying, “Fairchild, madam.”

You heard a soft thump and a huff of surprise from behind you, and you had to hide your smile. Perhaps it would be best if your friend gave at least a vague explanation to Papyrus?

**Perhaps so. You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.**

You laughed silently before realising that Matteo was speaking.

“—feel the same way as you, Mother. Perhaps it is simply the moon playing tricks on us?”

You snuck a look over to the handsome man, unable to stop yourself from studying his features with a sort of awe. His mouth was drawn into a gentle, secret smile, and you knew he was referring to the fact that he had encountered you when you had been upset by Zachary’s lack of control. You forced yourself to look away again before you could do something like lick your lips. You were very aware of Papyrus’s and Sans’s gaze, and you felt your cheeks warm at the thought of how you had allowed yourself to fall prey to your compulsion before, simply because you had wanted to act out against Sans’s controlling attitude.

You knew you would have some apologising to do when you returned to the Home.

**That’s true enough. You certainly have upset Papyrus.**

You bit your lip softly, briefly, before squaring your shoulders and taking another sip of your tea. You would make your apologies later, after you had taken care of this situation.

**What exactly do you expect to find out, anyway? We already know they are monsters.**

“Possibly,” you said to Matteo and Alvise, your cup clinking back on its saucer. “Perhaps it’s simply one of those situations where someone has a familiar manner without ever having met them before. I can’t say I get it often, but enough to know it’s another possibility.”

“Tell me, Frisk,” Alvise said, before being interrupted by another gurgling cough. You sat uncomfortably while the woman’s body shook with hacking coughs. Finally, once they had cleared, there was a slight pause while she took deep, wheezing breaths. “My a-apologies. I was going to ask what your profession is. Do you work here in the city?”

“I…don’t,” you said, thinking fast. The smell of eucalyptus in the room was strong enough to distract you, now. “I’m afraid the city doesn’t offer many opportunities for me.”

“Ah, are you in business as well, then? I know my Matteo prefers to travel when he can. He picks up trinkets for me from all over the world,” the woman cooed, reaching her hand up to draw back her long veil enough to show off her sleeve. It was wide with a simple floral design, and seemed to be made of a soft cotton-like material. You almost immediately recognised it as a kimono’s sleeve, and nodded appreciatively. 

“It’s lovely. I’ve only seen a handful of authentic kimonos in my life, but what I have seen pales in comparison to yours, Alvise.” You leaned back when you realised you had bent toward the monster woman, and consciously forced another sip of tea down your throat.

Alvise’s arm snaked back inside, and you heard a soft, rattling intake of breath. She almost sounded…excited. “You appreciate Japanese fashion?”

“Fashion, curio…yes, anything from the Orient, really,” you said, glancing over at Matteo with raised eyebrows when he cleared his throat. He just smiled and took a sip of his own tea.

“A-ah, well,” Alvise said, stuttering slightly as though admonished. You blinked, your brows drawing together with confusion. Had Matteo just subtly scolded his mother?

**Certainly seems like it. Was this the sort of thing you were interested in? Monster family drama?**

Not at all, though it might help your actual goal: finding out what they wanted from  _ you _ . You wanted to know why they were putting on such an elaborate ruse, or if it even was one in the first place. Did they even  _ own _ this house, or had they somehow taken it? Were they attempting to kidnap you, and was that why they repeatedly tried to separate you from Sans and Papyrus? Were they also working for their master, or were they somehow separate from the other mountain monsters?

You had a great deal of questions and not enough answers, which was why you were currently sipping on disgusting tea that you weren’t even sure had been  _ boiled _ .

**Is that really the thing that concerns you the most? Not the fact that they might be trying to kidnap you?**

You weren’t concerned at all with that. And why should you be? Sans and Papyrus were there, and you and your friend had had a hearty meal just that afternoon. You were confident in you and your friends’ ability to keep you safe.

“It’s, ah, refreshing to find a fellow enthusiast,” Alvise said, clearing her throat loudly in the awkward silence. “So what is it that you do, Frisk?”

You decided that telling a white lie would be your best option in this situation, despite the possibility that Mr. Coppola might have heard you speaking to William about being a guard. It was easier to keep track of than an outright lie. “My family are merchants.”

A loud, slamming stomp came from the room above, and you thought you could hear muffled cursing.

You looked between Alvise and Matteo. Matteo gave a nervous, but still charming smile. You heard a suspicious hum from your friend.

“Something wrong?” you asked, keeping your voice light.

Matteo laughed, giving his head a shake and causing his soft black hair to rustle against his suit. “No, no, not at all. That’s just…Father. Doing some…renovations. He has a bit of a temper.”

You tilted your head to look up at the ceiling pointedly. There was another awkward cough from Alvise that quickly turned into a full-blown coughing fit.

“Don’t worry about Ulisse, my dear,” she wheezed between coughs after a few moments. “Why don’t you tell us about your family? Do they live here in the city?”

You turned your eyes back to your tea, sighing silently with relief when you saw that it was almost gone. You didn’t want to be talking about your family with this woman. Or anyone, for that matter. “They don’t. The family home is in the south.”

Alvise gave a short, rattling gasp. You couldn’t tell if it was of delight or surprise. “Then you’re all alone?”

You slowly looked up to the shrouded monster woman, your skin crawling. There was something about the way she had spoken that made you think she wasn’t asking for your benefit. “Not alone. I have my friends.”

“Ahhh, but what are friends compared to  _ family _ ?” she asked, reaching for your hand again.

You didn’t take it this time.

“Surely, you must be lonely, Frisk.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“And it’s such an  _ awful _ time to be alone in the city.”

The woman’s voice dipped low, and it felt as though she was trying to weave a net over you with her words. Before you could stop yourself, you brushed your arm with your spare hand, as if to rid yourself of the sensation.

“Especially with the Blood Moon risen.”

You glanced over to see Matteo staring at you with a hungry, predatory look in his eyes. Gone was the flattering, yet still gentlemanly appearance, replaced with something raw, something  _ desperate _ . On any other person, you might have mistaken it for sexual desire, but you had seen this same look from Matteo before.

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is?”

When he had told you how beautiful your eyes were.

**I think it’s probably a good time to leave, even if you do have questions still.**

You happened to agree.

Looking away from Matteo’s discomfiting expression, you downed the rest of your tea in one gulp and placed the cup back in the saucer with more force than was strictly necessary. You grimaced at the bits of leaf caught on your tongue, but turned it into a smile at the last second. You slid your pocket watch out and cleared your throat, making a point of checking the time.

“I do, madam, which is why we should be going,” you said, standing and placing your teacup on the bedside table with some reluctance. You hated to be rude, even if the entire situation was a setup to kidnap you. You could hear your mother’s voice asking if you were raised by wolves, as your eyes stuck on the sight of the teacup. You smiled wider.

You might as well have been.

“What? So soon?” Matteo asked, sounding genuinely distressed that you were leaving. “Surely, it would be better if you stayed for dinner, at least?” He stood up alongside you, and you tucked your pocket watch away, just in case you would need both hands.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Frisk, dear!” Alvise said, holding out both of her hands in your direction as if that would make you stay. “Sit, sit. We’ll have some dinner and then you’ll stay in one of the guest rooms for the night! Then you won’t have to travel through the city at night.”

You felt Sans’ and Papyrus’s presence at your back, and saw Matteo’s eyes flick towards them with barely disguised annoyance.

“Don’t worry. We aren’t,” Sans’s voice was deep with barely restrained aggression. You knew he and Papyrus had been uncomfortable with you coming here at all, so you could only imagine how frustrated he must be by now. “I know a shortcut.”

Alvise’s head lifted underneath the veil, and she seemed to be studying Sans and Papyrus, despite her supposed blindness. You could feel Papyrus’s hand brush against yours, and you took a slow, comforting breath through your nose. Even through the eucalyptus, you caught the hint of his and Sans’s scents. Your pulse quickened, but you ignored it. Now was not the time to be falling prey to your compulsions.

“If—if you’re—sure?” the monster woman practically squeaked, and you were absolutely certain at that moment that she knew Sans and Papyrus. The fear in her voice left no doubt in your mind that she was aware of the threat hiding behind Sans’s polite but firm words. Matteo was staring at his mother as though she’d suddenly grown two heads.

**Papyrus doesn’t seem to know who she is, though.**

You frowned softly. You would figure that out once you were  _ out _ of this crypt of a house.

“We’re sure,” you said, an edge to your voice. You dipped your head slightly and made to leave.

“Wait!” Matteo choked out, his silken voice oddly panicked. You turned back in shock, eyebrows lowered. He took a step closer to you, and you felt the rumble of Papyrus’s growl in the pit of your stomach. Matteo barely paid any attention, though, reaching for your hand and holding it to his chest. You stumbled forward with a coil of dread unfurling in your heart. His chest was so hard, so unyielding. Logically, you knew he must be a monster as well, but his human face threw you completely. Was it possible that he was also made of bone? How else could he be so hard? “Frisk, please,” he said, his voice a stage whisper full of drama. “Don’t just leave like this. We haven’t offended you somehow, have we?”

You twisted your hand gently until it came free of Matteo’s. You silently breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to try to hold you, as Zachary had. You let it fall back to your side as you said, “No, Matteo, you haven’t offended me. I simply need to return to my home before full night falls. They are expecting me back.” You were sure to keep your voice even and kind, feeling no need to be rough with them yet. They might be attempting subterfuge, but they weren’t resorting to violence when it was clear you weren’t going to stay.

**Doesn’t mean they won’t.**

You knew that. Which was why you were  _ leaving _ .

“Are you sure we can’t tempt you to stay? You could use our telephone to call ahead and tell them you’re—” Matteo said, before you cut him off with a shake of the head.

“No,” you said, your voice flat with finality, an echo of your friend’s power behind the words, “thank you. It’s best if we just go. Thank you for the tea and conversation, though, Alvise. They were both lovely.”

The monster woman nodded, and you realised she was trembling underneath her veil.

You blinked, but decided to ignore it.

“Nero, Maddalena. It was nice to meet you,” you said, giving a little nod to the twins in the corner. You turned back to Mr. Coppola and gave a thin, tense smile. “Goodbye, Matteo. It’s been grand talking to you this afternoon. Perhaps we could talk more another time.”

With a final tap of your hat goodbye, you turned on your heel and left the room, Sans and Papyrus right behind you. You thought you heard your name called again, but you were already trotting down the stairs back to the entrance. Your good manners told you it was impolite to leave in such a rush, without even waiting for the host to walk you to the door, but frankly, you couldn’t care less about that.

You just wanted out.

You were far past frustrated with the day.

Nothing had gone right, and you had accomplished nothing, other than realising you had enemies around every corner.

And the moment you emerged from the gloom of the stale, dead house, you saw the moon hanging overhead, its eye on you as the night sky softly smothered the city streets.

Always.

Always watching.

Your hands clenched as you felt the slithering hooks tear into your soul, rough in their insistence. Your friend instantly wrapped you in darkness, silently comforting you. You blew out a deep breath of annoyance, turning your face to Sans and Papyrus.

As you did, though, something in the window above them caught your eye. Your lips parted as you were startled into taking a step back.

Then you realised it was just a suit of armour, placed in a way to make it seem like it was watching you. You felt foolish enough to laugh.

“What—what are you laughing about, Frisk? What is so funny?” Papyrus asked, his voice sounding so concerned for you that you had to laugh harder. You shook your head and rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands before gesturing up to the window.

“Nothing—just—thought that was a person watching me—and got scared,” you said between giggles.

There was a brief silence from the brothers before Sans asked, his voice quiet, “You thought  _ what _ was a person?”

You looked up, still laughing, but with eyebrows drawn together, ready to point out the suit of armour, when your heart froze over with fear.

The armour was gone.

You stopped laughing.

“Let’s go,” you said, your hands trembling as you stared up at the empty window. “I’m ready to be gone from this horrible city already.”

The brothers exchanged a look but didn’t argue with you. You quickly left the area at your request, walking much faster than you might have otherwise. You kept your eyes forward, ignoring the cries and laughter and stumbling crowds around you. Nightfall had brought an entirely different group of people out, and you wanted nothing to do with them.

“Sans, please,” was all you had to say before he took your hand and yanked you into an alleyway, dropping the three of you through one of his breath-stealing ‘shortcuts.’ You fell out in the downtown area, and before you could catch your breath, Sans had scooped you up and strode forward through the archway that marked the permanent shortcut.

There was a roaring, a scratching, a desperate grabbing, and then you were on the other side, being set back on your feet in the forest.

You were quiet for a moment, simply breathing in the cool mountain air. You slipped off your hat and held it between your hands, your fingers clenching it tight enough to hurt. Your heart pounded.

**Just let go, sweetheart.**

Then you took a deep breath and slammed the hat to the ground, kicking it with an angry bellow.

You picked up a heavy, but quite short branch that had fallen and slammed it against the thick trunk of a tree, letting your rage pour from your throat as you tore through the forest around you.

You had held it in so well.

You had been polite when William had looked at you like you were nothing but a silly, helpless woman.

You had kept yourself from hurting Zachary when he had put his disgusting hands on you.

You had kept yourself from shouting at Mr. Coppola every time he sneered at your friends.

You had kept yourself from immediately putting your boot in the monster woman’s face and telling her to kindly  _ fuck off _ .

But you were out of the city now.

And you didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

After you had reduced several dead branches to splinters and had ripped one of the live ones off of the tree you had abused, poised to strike once more, your anger drained away suddenly. You were left standing with a sap-covered branch clinging desperately to your palms as you panted with exertion.

You groaned and collapsed against the tree’s trunk, ignoring the scratches that immediately lined your cheeks.

**Do you feel better now?**

You didn’t. If anything, you felt worse, because you knew you would have to look Sans and Papyrus in the eyes now, sooner or later, and they would either be horrified or unimpressed. You had never lost your temper over something so trivial before, and you didn’t know how they would respond.

**I wouldn’t say that those things were trivial. You’ve had a hard day. You deserve to lose your temper.**

You groaned again softly, and turned so that your back was to the tree, letting your head thump back against it. You still didn’t open your eyes, though, content to never see the brothers’ reactions to your temper tantrum.

“Frisk…” you heard, just in front of you. Papyrus. He sounded neither upset nor amused, but rather…relieved, strangely enough. Your eyes opened to see that he was close enough to touch. Close enough for you to reach out and take the hand that was already reaching for you. 

Before you could stop yourself, you were doing just that, holding your arms out for Papyrus as he practically fell on you. He pulled you flush against him, his sternum pressing against your cheek as his soul fluttered loud enough for you to hear. His scarf tickled your hair as it fluttered down from around his face, and you took a deep, deep breath, pulling in the scent of him that you hadn’t known you were missing. You clung to him through his clothes, your finger pressing the cloth slightly into the spaces between his ribs.

“F-Frisk, I’m sssso glad you’re s-sssafe,” he whispered, his breath hitching slightly. His fingers dug into your shoulder and hip, but you didn’t mind at all. You just nuzzled against him, nodding at his words. “I was s-so woooorried about you, the wh-whole time. I h- _ hate _ that city.”

You laughed, your throat inexplicably thick. “Let’s not go there again anytime soon, hey?”

“Agreed,” Papyrus said instantly, and you heard a chuckle from behind him.

With a twist of guilt in your stomach, you pulled away from Papyrus enough to peer around him. Sans stood far back from both of you, his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. He had taken off his hat and scarf and had tucked them underneath his arm. He smiled softly when he saw you looking, and you could see his apology in his eyes before he could even open his mouth.

“Sans, I’m sorry,” you blurted out before he could say anything. You wanted him to understand why you’d done what you’d done. “I didn’t mean to upset you—or worry you—at all, today. But I know I did, and you, too, Papyrus.” 

You pulled away fully from Papyrus with a small, apologetic smile, turning your eyes to Sans again. “So I’m sorry for that. But I—I was afraid. Of the state of the city, of Zachary—even Mr. Coppola, despite what it may have looked like. So when you came out of the station with the door looking like a battering ram had smashed it, I guess I—I just—” You paused, swallowing and looking away with a shrug. “Assumed the worst.”

You waited for him to respond, or for Papyrus to put your mind at ease, but neither of them said anything. Thick coils of dread writhed in your stomach as you glanced back up at Sans, to see him staring at you with an unfathomable expression. His red eyes were flat, but soft. He wasn’t moving at all—not even to breathe. Your tongue suddenly felt too big for your mouth.

**Perhaps you should just ask.**

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek nervously, your eyebrows raised and pulled together. “You didn’t… _ kill _ him, did you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart clenched, and you were suddenly unsure if you were hoping more that he would confirm or deny that he had killed Zach.

That unsureness worried you.

“What do  _ you _ think I did, Frisk?”

You were locked in Sans’s gaze as his eyes began to pulse, slow and steady. “I don’t know, Sans.”

A silence fell over both of you again, and you felt as though he was searching your eyes for something.

You wished you knew what.

Finally, the spell was broken when he looked away, smiling crookedly. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummeted. Oh, God. “For what?”

He gave a small shrug. “For being someone who makes you wonder whether they’ve murdered your— _ friends _ .” His rueful tone twisted angrily at the word, as though it disagreed with him.

**I’m surprised he got the word out at all, actually.**

You huffed with relieved laughter, and you thought you heard Papyrus squeak with what sounded like his own held-back laughter. It left you just as fast as it had come, though, and with a quick look to Papyrus that was met with a sad smile, you approached Sans. You stopped just in front of him, and were surprised when he refused to look at you.

“Sans, he isn’t my friend,” you said, hoping you were interpreting his words correctly. You leaned over just enough to catch his eye and held it as you straightened again, keeping his gaze steadily. “And you know that.  _ You’re _ my friend.” 

You had to stop and take a breath when you saw a hint of red bloom across his cheeks. You could feel your heart pounding at your chest, and you knew you had to calm yourself. “I don’t blame you for being upset, or even for wanting to hurt him. For God’s sake,  _ I _ almost hurt him, you know,” you said, laughing quietly when his eyes flashed with interest. “But he doesn’t deserve that satisfaction. He doesn’t deserve  _ any _ of my attention, no matter how negative.”

You reached forward and tentatively slid your hand in Sans’s, smiling when his eyes widened with surprise. “Thank you for wanting to protect me, though. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I wouldn’t have made it out of that city if it wasn’t for you and Papyrus at my back.”

You felt your friend stir slightly at that, like a pigeon whose feathers had been ruffled. You laughed silently and reminded them that they were the one who had said that they couldn’t protect you without time to prepare. You wouldn’t have been able to fight back against a monster, if she had decided she really wanted you. You were just a human, when it was all said and done.

**I suppose you’re right.**

“What do you mean?” Sans asked, his brow bones lowering slightly. “You looked like you were handling yourself just fine.”

You heard Papyrus come up beside you, and you turned a smile to him, pleased when you saw his eyes soften and pulse at the same rate as your heart. You slipped your hand in Papyrus’s as well and turned them both to the trail back to the Home. They walked beside you without protest.

“I suppose you didn’t know the Coppolas personally, then?” you asked, choosing to ignore your hat and Papyrus’s scarf and leave them till the morning. You were hungry and tired, and wanted to just sit on your bed for a long while.

“No, why would we?” Papyrus asked, his head tilted towards you.

You nudged a rock out of the way absently. “Well, because they’re monsters.” When both of the brothers stopped dead on either side of you, you stopped as well, a few feet ahead of them. You turned and lifted your eyebrows at the blank, obvious surprise in their expressions. “Or, the woman was, at least. Did you really not know?”

There was a long, ominous silence. Sans and Papyrus both looked at you for several moments before turning to each other, as if working through the clues together wordlessly.

When they finally spoke, it was angry and disjointed—so much so that if you hadn’t known what they were speaking of already, it would have been wholly unintelligible.

“I  _ knew _ it—”

“The dust—”

“—the  _ weirdness _ —”

“—goddammit, the  _ eucalyptus _ —”

“—the  _ dark _ !—”

“—the  _ smashing _ upstairs—”

“—the ssssneaky—”

“—conniving—”

Both of the brothers stopped growling out their, disconnected thoughts at the same time. Papyrus’s eyes were narrowed and his hands were clenched, where Sans looked deadly calm, perfectly still as his eyes slowly dimmed.

“So,” you said, tucking your hands in your trouser pockets, “I suppose you  _ do _ know her, after all?”

**Either that, or they are just very, very easily angered over incense and thick curtains.**

You shushed your friend with a silent laugh. This wasn’t the time for jokes. The brothers were obviously incredibly angry about realising who the woman actually was. The least you could do was keep your inappropriate humour to yourself.

Sans shook his head with disgust and spat out, “Of course we know her. Who else could it have been? The only monsters unhinged enough to try to lure you away when we’re  _ right there in the room _ . Alphys and Undyne.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H-h-haaaappyyyy to be done with this little 'city' arc HOO BOY HOO BOY!
> 
> Next up: a...quiet...moment with the brothers.
> 
> HEY I'M TUMBLR
> 
> I'M NOT SO TUMBLR
> 
> AAAAND WE'RE THE TUMBLRS
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	28. Quiet Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A...quiet moment with the brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -dances by with ribbons-
> 
> fanart. fanart yo. [ Moths to a Flame was a mistake. by crowbutter ](http://crowbutter.tumblr.com/post/146150109352/uppppppdddaaaatttttteeeeeee-screams)
> 
> AMAZING. I'm still laughing about it now, like really ugly laughs. xD
> 
> **NOW IT'S WARNING TIME WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK**
> 
> Sexual content that contains biting, dry humping, simulated penetration, voyeurism, and masturbation. It's at the end and completely skippable!
> 
> Also, there is discussion of misguided, negative views on polyamory.
> 
> Really, besides the beginning of this chapter, there is very little plot and could be skipped if you want.
> 
> Anyway, on with the shoooooow!
> 
> <3

 

 

“I suppose, when you think about her name, it becomes fairly obvious.”

Sans and Papyrus both rolled their eyes at your facetiousness. You couldn’t help it; you were happy that the brothers knew who this monster was. It meant there wasn’t another battlefront for you to keep your attention on.

“She’s right, we should have known,” Papyrus groaned, his fingers clenching and unclenching as his bones shook. “The clues were all there—we should have been able to put them together.”

“That’s not true at all,” you interjected before Sans could speak. “Let’s look at the facts. Firstly, they knew it was a possibility that they wouldn’t be able to separate me from you. That’s why they had the room set up in such a way to take away your main advantages. Sans, you couldn’t possibly have been able to smell past that incense, and Papyrus, she had her face veiled and her voice masked, I can only presume?”

Both of them nodded, and you nodded back.

“So they knew obviously knew your strengths, and wanted to take them away. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see it, especially if you didn’t expect there would be any monsters confident enough to try it.”

Sans’s shoulders slumped. “She had her soul shielded, as well.”

Papyrus stood up straighter, his fingers tapping at his sternum thoughtfully. “I’m not sure who the other three were, though. If…if they even were monsters.”

Sans tilted his head back and looked up at the moon peeking through the canopy of leaves. “I don’t know either, actually. That man _seemed_ like a human, but there was something very wrong with him.” He glanced over at Papyrus. “Do we know anyone who Alphys might have recruited to help her with this?”

Papyrus shrugged a shoulder, his bones still clicking away. “No one comes to mind immediately.”

Sans gave a little growl of frustration. “There’s bound to be _someone_ mad enough to follow Alphys.” He shook his head angrily. “Not that it matters who is helping her, or why she did it in the first place. We should just go back and kill her before she can try it again.”

**Yes, because that will help us find out why we are now being personally targeted.**

You scoffed lightly in agreement with your friend. “Sans, don’t be dense. There’s something happening in that mountain that neither of you are aware of— _obviously_. Unless you want me to end up down there, too, we should probably find out why they want _me_ in particular, enough to send out a _team_ of monsters.”

Sans looked as though he’d like to argue, but then he sighed and nodded. “You’re right. As much as I’d like to go wring her neck, we need to know why they want you.”

Papyrus hummed softly, looking between the two of you. “Muffet did say something about everyone having their eye on Frisk. Do you think she was in on this?”

**Ask them why she said that.**

You frowned. “When did _Muffet_ say something about me?”

The brothers exchanged a look, and you were surprised to see light blushes dust across their cheekbones. “When you—ah,” Papyrus made a sound like clearing his throat, and you raised your eyebrows. “When you were out in the forest. With Ch—with Fairchild.”

It was your turn to blush.

Oh.

“Ah,” was all you managed, and even that came out in a squeak. You heard your friend chuckle, low and amused.

There was another moment of charged silence before you shook yourself and straightened, ignoring the heat in your body. You weren’t going to think about that right now. You’d already known that they had been close by, but you hadn’t known that anyone else was watching. It seemed you and your friend had unintentionally put on a show for everyone the night before.

Oh well.

**That’s my girl. There’s no need to feel shame. You were beautiful, writhing on the forest floor for me.**

The heat in your face and body only rose at the unexpected praise. Still, you were worried that, if Muffet and other monsters were there, they might have heard you calling your friend’s true name as well. If Sans and Papyrus heard you…

**I’m not worried. The only reason why Sans knew I was with you was because of the many clues we let slip. They will not understand what the name means, even if they did hear it.**

You nodded with relief, and realised that Papyrus was nodding too. You smiled over at him, and with a glance up to the engorged moon, its edges pulsing so softly that it was almost unnoticeable by the naked eye, you reached out a hand to him.

“Come on, let’s keep walking. I want to rest in bed for a little while before I have to patrol.”

Papyrus took your offered hand and the three of you continued down the path to the Home. “So, do you have any ideas why Alphys and Undyne and Muffet might be singling me out?” you asked after a few moments. You saw Papyrus shake his head out of the corner of your eye, but the grunt Sans gave made you look up at him with raised eyebrows.

He glanced down at you, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Alphys is…different. Than the rest of us monsters.” When your only response was to raise your eyebrows higher, he sighed. “She has…instincts about things. Sometimes visions.” Your mind immediately gave you a memory of your vision as you’d touched her, and you shuddered softly. “She blinded herself a long time ago because she wanted to share the master’s knowledge. She felt her eyes were holding her back from that.”

Your brows knitted together, and your mouth twisted with disgust. “I suppose if knowledge was her priority, then…” you trailed off.

“Oh, you misunderstand,” Papyrus said, his voice quiet and regretful. “It didn’t work. She gained knowledge, yes, but not the master’s.” He paused, before saying in a tiny voice, “No one can understand what the master knows.”

You tried to make sense of that while your friend hummed with suspicion.

**I really don’t like the sound of this. This master is sounding more and more familiar.**

You swallowed thickly at the implication. Did your friend mean that—that the master might be—

**Like me? I’m not sure how it’s possible, since I’m the last one alive, but…I don’t see how it could be anything else.**

You squeezed Papyrus’s hand, suddenly afraid of the possibility that there was another god keeping its eyes on you. You didn’t want any other god. You wanted your friend.

**Don’t fret about it, my dear. Even if it is another like me, I will protect you.**

You knew they would. But still…you had to know what your fate might be if all else failed.

“Sans. Papyrus,” you whispered, “What is the master?”

They both froze for a single moment before stumbling to catch their step. Sans was staring down at you with sharp eyes, but Papyrus wouldn’t even look at you.

“I know…I know you said that you don’t know what the master wants, but do you know what it _is_?”

A rolling shudder passed through Sans’s bones, and Papyrus held your hand like a vice. You simply waited patiently for them to answer.

“No,” Sans said after a long while, “I’ve—seen—things, when I deliver the blood and flesh of the Reaping. Things I can never erase from my mind, though I didn’t—and still don’t—understand what they are. I don’t think about it. It’s the only way to stay sane, in Underground.” He paused, and you realised he was shivering. You reached out and slipped your hand in his again, and he immediately gripped it back, hard. “It’s the only way to remain _yourself_.”

You waited for either of them to continue, but they never did. You didn’t mind. You weren’t going to press them to talk about it any more than was necessary. You knew you needed to know what you were up against, but you wouldn’t find out at the expense of the brothers' comfort. They would tell you everything eventually.

Instead, you held their hands tight in your own, hoping that the small gesture could give them some amount of comfort.

The three of you walked the rest of the way to the Home in comfortable, though somewhat charged silence. Without conversation or pressing danger to distract you from the lure of the moon, your eyes were drawn to it as you walked between the brothers.

It was painfully swollen in the starry sky, and as your eyes memorised every divot, every scar on its face, you could imagine that you heard singing. A soft, crooning song that wrapped you up as a mother swaddled her babe.

Sweet thrumming that drove through your skin into your heart.

Fingers of its wet, blood-drenched madness coiled around your heart, searching for an opening. 

**Look away, Frisk.**

It wasn’t until Papyrus and Sans clenched your hands especially tight that you realised you were falling behind, unable to keep up as you fell into the moon’s sway. You wrenched your gaze away with some difficulty and looked into Papyrus’s eyes, finding a soothing warmth in their glow as the madness fell away from your heart. You took a deep breath to calm your thudding pulse, and found that you had made it to the Home already.

You allowed the brothers to guide you to the window of your room so you could climb inside, followed by Papyrus’s clattering bones and Sans’s silent magic. You walked over to your bed to find a note pinned to one of two thick bedrolls sitting atop your mattress. It was in the matron’s handwriting, and it simply said that until arrangements had been made elsewhere in the Home, the brothers would have to stay with you. Cots were being brought up from the cellar in the morning, but tonight there would be only bedrolls. The last thing she mentioned was the ‘special draught’ for you she’d sent along with the meal.

You sighed, frowning softly and letting the note flutter back down to your bed as you turned to the tray that held the food for you and the brothers. “Hopefully you two are fine with sharing the bed, because there isn’t going to be anything else for you tonight, apparently.” You took up a piece of meat and a bread roll and shoved them together to make a rudimentary sandwich as you looked back to the brothers.

Papyrus had the note in his hands, his coat, suit jacket, and waistcoat already abandoned on the back of the chair in the corner. “I don’t think we’ll all fit on the bed, Frisk,” he said absently.

“I’m fine with the floor,” Sans offered immediately, also tossing his hat and scarf and outer coat onto the chair. Your eyes caught on the sight of him undressing with his back to you, and you felt your friend take notice of your sudden attention. You wanted to look away, but there was something about the graceful way his shoulders and shoulder blades rolled as he slid his jacket and waistcoat off that wouldn’t let you.

It was so different than what you remembered when you first saw him. Sans had moved so stiffly, then—so uncomfortably. He always looked like he felt he was in the wrong body.

But you could hardly say that now, with the way he turned to look at you, his wide shoulders held straight and square and his fingers deftly undoing the buttons at the cuffs of his sleeves.

He didn’t look uncomfortable at all, now.

He looked…handsome.

**Goodness, I do wonder what our Teddy would say if he knew what you were thinking.**

You looked away immediately, to the delight of your friend. You tore into your sandwich and picked up the tall vial of blood the matron had left you. “Nobody’s sleeping on the floor. I meant that both of _you_ will have to fit on the bed,” you said around your mouthful of food. You dug your nail into the wax seal around the vial and worked it around the edge. You looked up to see Papyrus and Sans staring at you.

“Where will you sleep, then?” Papyrus asked, kicking off his shoes and unhooking his suspenders. Again, you tried not to watch as he slipped off his trousers, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes raked over the ragged leggings that clung to his bones and over his exposed hip, and your thumb itched to stroke the tip of it.

**Frisk, sweetheart, you’re not making it easy to keep your heat under control.**

You ducked your head, focusing on eating. You apologised, thoroughly chastised.

**You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to, but I won’t be able to keep your emotions dulled for long if you do.**

You thought about that, before sneaking another look at Papyrus as he shucked off his linen shirt, folding it carefully and setting it on the chair’s seat. Your eyes followed the line of his exposed spine as it bent and curved, the vertebrae separating just-so before coming back together as he straightened. You wondered what it would feel like to trace the line of them with your fingertips.

“Ahh,” you breathed when you realised the brothers were both watching you with intense, knowing looks in their eyes.

You’d forgotten that they could feel and smell your desire.

You tried to smile and laugh it off, but your breath hitched funny when you did, and it came out sounding somewhat forced. You took a swig from the vial before offering it to the brothers as well. They shook their heads. “I, ahh, I don’t need to sleep,” you finally answered Papyrus’s question, and immediately took another drink of the blood. 

God, it tasted so good. So thick and coppery and hot with life. You closed your eyes as you drank, feeling your throat work deeply when you tilted your head back. 

You heard your friend groan softly and you suddenly had to work hard to keep your pulse under control. This was not like the meal you had had earlier, in the matron’s office. This was…this was…

**This is human blood.**

You downed the entire vial in one go, panting for breath when you dropped your head down once more. You licked your lips where you had let a few drops spill, and even dipped your tongue inside the vial’s neck to clean the glass sides.

When you looked up again, the brothers were both blushing heavily, their eyes pulsing hard and fast as they stood tall and rigid. You were suddenly aware of how tense the silence in the room was, and how, if you let yourself, you could probably seduce both of the brothers right now.

You immediately felt awful for considering it.

You had confessed your feelings to Papyrus; you weren’t meant to be feeling anything more than friendship for his brother. But when you looked between them, and saw how obvious the desire was in both of them, you felt your heart tugged in two directions.

You began to panic slightly.

Oh, God.

You didn’t want this.

You didn’t want to feel this again.

You’d only end up heartbroken.

Your friend’s soft shadows caressed your soul, and a shudder rolled through you.

**It’s _okay_ , sweetheart. I’ve told you it’s okay. It’s perfectly normal. Whatever happened in the past is just that—in the past.**

You trembled, the glass vial dangling from your fingertips. You could feel the power from the blood quickly spreading through your body as your friend soaked it up eagerly, and it was making you quite unsteady on your feet. It felt a bit like being drunk, the life in the blood was so strong. You wondered where the matron had gotten it from.

“Frisk.”

You looked from Papyrus to Sans to see him slowly, carefully unbuttoning his shirt, as if he didn’t want to startle you. Your breath came faster, and you nearly dropped the vial, your hands were so slick with sweat. You decided to put it back on the tray before you broke it, glad to have something else to look at other than Sans as he slipped off his shirt and tossed it on the pile of clothes. You could see that he was only in his black undershirt and trousers now, out of the corner of your eye.

“You said you wanted to rest before you had to patrol. You take the bed. We’ll have the floor.”

Your throat worked silently as you made to disagree with Sans, but the look on his and Papyrus’s faces made it clear there was no arguing. They were already taking up the thick bedrolls and spreading them across the floor, anyway. You nodded, feeling a bit silly to be so flustered over watching the brothers getting undressed. You’d seen them nearly ‘naked’ earlier, and you hadn’t cared one bit. What was different now?

**The moon, dear heart. Never underestimate its power while it hangs in the sky.**

You thought on that, gnawing on your lip and setting down the last bite of your sandwich. Your friend _had_ mentioned that it was much easier to control you when the moon’s light was drowned out by sun. You wondered just how much stronger the effects would be now that night had fallen.

**You sound…curious. I’m not sure I approve.**

You _were_ curious. But you didn’t want to push your luck if your friend didn’t think it was a good idea.

“Frisk?”

You looked up, your eyes wide. Papyrus and Sans had made a makeshift bed out of the two bedrolls, doubling them up and sitting on top. Sans was already laid out, his eyes closed and an arm slung up over his face. You supposed he must be tired after using his shortcuts so much. He had mentioned earlier that they took it out of him somewhat. Papyrus sat next to him, peering over at you with concerned eyes as you stood awkwardly next to your bed.

“Yes?” you asked, kicking off your shoes and quickly takingoff your outer layers of clothing. You couldn’t look at Papyrus as you did so, even though you told yourself it was ridiculous to feel that way. There wasn’t anything sexual about the fact that you were getting undressed, you reminded your body. You were just trying to get more comfortable so you could rest for a bit.

**I don’t think your body can hear you, honey.**

You still had to try, because the ache in your hips and the pulse in your thighs made you uncomfortable. You were nervous. You felt like something was going to happen, and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to or not.

**Nothing will happen to you if you don’t want.**

That made you feel slightly better; more relaxed. You trusted your friend to keep you under control. At least, if you needed them to.

“Are you feeling okay?” Papyrus asked as you sat carefully on your bed, trying not to make it creak more than necessary so you didn’t wake up Sans. You draped the blanket over yourself even though you still had trousers and an undershirt on. It was cold enough to you that you needed that bit of warmth to be comfortable. “You look quite…nervous.”

You shifted so that you were on your side, pulling your knees against your stomach and wrapping your arms around them. You could see the moon from this angle, as well as both of the brothers. You could feel the pull on you from the red eye gazing through your window, but you focused intently on Papyrus. He was laying facing you now, propped up on one elbow, so that his face was only a few feet away from yours. The entire Home was quiet and still, and your heart began to thump hard against your chest.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Just feeling thoughtful.” You sighed, giving Papyrus a small, insincere smile. “You should get some sleep too, while you can.”

Papyrus studied your eyes for a long, silent moment, before he reached out and gave your cheek a gentle stroke. You unconsciously leaned into his touch, your eyelids drooping with contentment. “Alright, Frisk. But if you need me, just ask.”

You gave Papyrus a genuine smile this time, and whispered a good night that was returned with a smile of his own before he turned away. You were surprised to hear a soft goodnight from Sans as well, despite the fact that he appeared fully asleep. It only made you smile wider. You buried your cheek into your pillow and watched Papyrus curl up next to Sans, resting his head on Sans’s outstretched arm. He loved his brother dearly, that much was obvious. Both of them did.

Your face fell when you thought about how your feelings for Sans were growing less friendly and more…involved. And you were fairly sure that Sans was beginning to have the same problem, if his blushes and misplaced insecurity were any indication. You didn’t know what you could do to stop it. You didn’t want to hurt either of them, but if you couldn’t stop yourself from having feelings for both of them, how could you not? Eventually, you would have to face it. You would have to tell them the truth, and choose one brother over the other.

Your stomach twisted awfully when you realised that you didn’t want to.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t want to potentially cause a rift between the brothers, like you had seen before. You truly did not want to make the choice between them, because you cared for them _both_.

Papyrus, with his sweet touches and his sweeter disposition. The way his eyes always looked for you, as though he never wanted for anything else. The way he held you close, and spoke to you so openly about his feelings for you. He _trusted_ you not to hurt him again. 

You could see it in the way he opened himself to you in that single moment before Sans had intervened. You had felt it in the way he pressed his teeth to your lips carefully, softly, but with such passion that you could not deny the obvious deep affection—possibly even love—that was growing in his heart. You had never had someone trust you so implicitly before. It was somewhat daunting to hold such responsibility, but it was also positively exhilarating. 

  There was no denying that, if you let yourself, you could fall deeply in love with the monster. 

He was like a sanctuary to your heart.

If you gave him the chance, he could become your heart’s home.

But then…there was Sans.

Dark, powerful, and mysterious—you had been almost instantly attracted to him. From the very moment you had seen him, with his shoulders stiff and countenance grim, as though he held the entire weight of the world on his back, you had felt drawn to him. You had watched him, tried to figure him out like a puzzle begging to be solved, and he had met your enthusiastic curiosity with dark amusement. 

You thought of how much more relaxed he seemed now, though, and somehow, you felt that you had helped him. Ever since you had bonded over your fear in the forest, he was growing to be less quiet and angry and more calm and honest with you. You couldn’t help how your heart beat faster when his expression softened as he looked in your eyes now.

There was still something very _animal_ about him, you supposed, with how protective he was of both you and Papyrus. Not to mention the looks you’d seen him give you, as though he’d love nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. But that wasn’t something limited to Sans alone—not really. Papyrus had made it clear that he was just as attracted to you, just in a different way. 

Where Sans gave you heated, desperately hungry looks from a distance, Papyrus was much closer, much more _physical_ in his attraction. You had felt unbearably uncomfortable with it before, because of how strongly your upbringing clashed with his sensual, soft touches. No matter how you tried to disregard your religious background, it was something that was ingrained in you. It was an ever-present struggle for you, as you fell further and further away from the church’s ideals into the shadows of your friend.

Now, though…

You welcomed his touches.

You wanted them.

You wanted _him_.

…You wanted both of them.

But you couldn’t do that. 

Not again.

You couldn’t go through that amount of pain twice.

You didn’t think you could bear it.

**You think too much, poppet.**

Your face crumpled and you turned into your pillow, breathing out. You could smell the oil from your hair, and rain on the breeze blowing through the window. _You_ didn’t think you thought too much. You thought you thought just enough, considering you could potentially tear two brothers apart, depending on your actions.

**What is the worst that could happen?**

You could break their hearts. 

You could break _your_ heart.

**Alright. So that’s the worst. Now what’s the best?**

You wrapped your arms around your stomach as you began to overheat with the blanket so high up on your body and your face turned into the pillow. 

The best that could happen…

Images of being held between the brothers, their arms around you and their faces buried against you, flashed across your mind. Your heart ached at the sweetness of the thought before you pushed it aside angrily. You couldn’t think like that. It was _wrong_.

**Why do you so stubbornly insist that it’s wrong?**

You curled up even tighter, eyes screwed shut.

**Sweetheart.**

You bit your lip to keep yourself from thinking about it, but the softly stroking fingers of shadow at your heart made it impossible to shut out.

**What happened to you?**

More images flooded your mind, though there was no sweetness to these memories. Zachary, smiling and laughing in the carefree manner of all youth, with his head thrown back and his teeth bared. Holding his hand out to you for a dance, his eyes sparkling with affection. Leaning in for a daring kiss as you flirted cheekily.

Then… _her_ confession.

Your shocked heart clenching, bursting with joy like butterflies set free from a cage.

Her tearful laughter as you confessed as well.

Holding each other.

Your lips softly trailing from her neck to her cheek then to her beautiful, perfect lips.

Opening your eyes to see Zachary’s glaring face.

Trying to convince him that it was a good thing.

You were _all_ friends…

…Why couldn’t you all be lovers, too?

The unsureness in his eyes as he agreed to try it.

The brief months of brilliant joy.

Then—the arguments—the break—the exile—

Then nothing.

Nobody loved you, after all.

But they had promised to love you forever.

They had promised to be your family.

They had promised.

**Oh, my sweetheart.**

You trembled despite the heat, balled up as tight as you could make yourself. You pressed your palms into your eyes and tried to forget. It was from a time of pain—of misery—and you didn’t want to remember any of it. If you could cut out those memories and throw them into the ocean, you wouldn’t hesitate to do it.

You felt the simulation of arms sliding around you from behind, but it did little to comfort you. You couldn’t lean into the suggestion of love; you couldn’t take solace in the breast of a shadow. You loved your friend, deeply and truly, but with certain wounds, you had to manage alone.

**Never alone.**

“Frisk?” you heard from just beside your ear, shocking you enough to pull a gasp from your throat as you whipped your head around. Papyrus was kneeling beside the bed, his hand reaching to take your shoulder with worry in his eyes. Your breath hitched at how close his face was to yours. You could see the hairline cracks that spider-webbed along one of his cheekbones, or the tiny chips in his predatory teeth.

You wanted so badly to kiss him.

But you knew that urge came from a horrible place in your heart. A place that desired only confirmation and comfort, that needed to know you were desirable. 

You didn’t want to give in to that.

“Frisk, are you sure you’re okay? Our friend is worried about you,” Papyrus whispered, his bare hand careful on your arm. His pointed fingers still caught on loose fibres in your shirt, and you smiled tiredly and reached up to place your hand over his.

“I’m fine,” you whispered back with a hoarse voice, your eyes flitting over to Sans to make sure he wasn’t bothered by it. He didn’t seem to be, thankfully. You saw Papyrus following the line of your sight before turning back to you with a small smile.

“You don’t have to worry about Sans. He doesn’t sleep much, so when he does, it’s deep,” he said, snorting and wheezing softly with his infectious laughter. “One time I dropped a pot of water over him when I got angry and he slept right through it. There was water pouring out of his eye-sockets for hours after he woke up!”

You laughed under your breath with him, your hands interlocking and resting on the bed between you. Papyrus sat back, his legs folded under him, but rested his head on his arm just in front of you, so you were laying face-to-face. Papyrus’s smile faded until he looked solemn but content once more.

“Frisk, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

You looked away, though it wasn’t easy when his face was so close to yours. 

**Talk to him.**

Your friend’s voice was barely above a whisper—the words a mere suggestion drifting across your heart. You looked back into Papyrus’s patient eyes and your lips parted before you realised what you were doing, and you said,

“I’m feeling confused about some…emotions.”

Papyrus didn’t seem surprised at all, and you wondered how much your friend had told him.

**I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even ask him to wake up. He can feel your distress well enough by himself.**

“Is this because of Mr. Coppola? Or is it Zachary and that other man?” Papyrus asked, his hand squeezing yours comfortingly. 

You gave a tiny shake of your head. “Not Mr. Coppola. I’m…a _little_ uncomfortable with the fact that I am drawn to him, but—” You stopped, searching Papyrus’s eyes to see if he was upset by your words, but he didn’t seem to be, so you continued. “But I’m fairly certain that it must be related to the moon-madness, somehow. I don’t—feel for him—what I feel for _you_. If you understand what I mean.” You were barely whispering by the end of your short ramble, and your cheeks were quite warm. You didn’t do well with confessions, even if you _had_ already confessed before.

Papyrus gave another soft wheezing laugh. “I understand. You’re just feeling attraction to Mr. Coppola because he is—well, he _must_ be—a monster.” He smiled and slipped his hand from yours to stroke your cheek delicately. The touch of his bones to your skin sent a thrill along your whole body, shivering down your spine. You felt yourself relaxing and shifting down in your bed again. “You shouldn’t worry about it. He likely won’t try to take advantage, no matter who he is. The connection with him is practically a thread compared to what is between the three of us.”

You were no longer relaxed. Your eyes shot open wide, and you shifted uncomfortably, guilt wracking your heart. Did he mean Sans, or your friend? You opened your mouth to ask, but you couldn’t find your breath.

**Don’t panic. Just breathe. He is not going to respond the same way as Zachary.**

“P-Papyrus,” you stuttered finally, forcing yourself to look directly in his eyes, “By the—the _three_ of us, did you—?”

“Shh, Frisk, it’s alright,” Papyrus crooned, leaning in to give your forehead an approximation of a kiss by pressing his teeth gently to the ridge just below your hairline. “You don’t have to pretend.”

You inhaled sharply, your fingertips tingling as you reached to grasp at Papyrus’s ragged shirt. “I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t mean to—”

He just shushed you again, his fingertips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. You shivered at his touch, and the steadily rising pulse of his eyes, the edges soft with desire. “There’s no need to be sorry. He feels the same.”

Your head was swimming suddenly, and even your friend seemed to be reeling somewhat at Papyrus’s open admission of his brother’s feelings. Had they spoken? Was he breaking Sans’s confidence by saying this?

Was it true?

Did Sans feel the same way you did?

Did Papyrus?

**There’s certainly one way for you to find out.**

But you didn’t want to give in to that. You didn’t want to take advantage of Papyrus’s feelings.

**You think… _too much_.**

“Papyrus,” you breathed, “are you saying that you don’t—you don’t mind that…?” You trailed off, hoping he understood what you were asking. You were trembling softly now, your hands unclenching so that you could slide them up along Papyrus’s sternum. The motion sent a hint of colour blooming across his cheekbones.

“Of course I don’t,” he said, his thumb stroking against your hair. “Why would I mind that you have feelings for Sans as well?”

You licked your lips unconsciously as you felt Papyrus’s breath wash over you, smelling of blood and the sweetness of decay and just _him_. It was somehow both awful and exhilarating, and you wanted to know if he tasted the same.

**Just _do_ it. Stop making yourself suffer just because of some misguided notion of propriety. If you are so worried, _ask_ , and you will see how much you would be _taking advantage_.**

But was it a good idea?

Could your friend keep both of you in check?

**Don’t worry about that.**

You were rapidly losing your reasons for why it was wrong to give in to your desire. Your friend was encouraging you—you didn’t feel out of control even despite the moon’s light pressing inside the room—and Papyrus seemed more than willing. The feeling that you would be taking advantage was dwindling fast.

“Because,” you answered nervously, your heart twisting with old scars, “this isn’t exactly usual.”

Papyrus’s brows rose with something like confusion mixed with amusement. “Usual for who?”

You suddenly remembered that there was likely to be an ocean’s worth of differences between your two societies. You wondered if this _was_ usual for them. “Humans. Or, I suppose, mostly the humans that I know,” you stumbled over your words, wondering if you sounded horribly out of touch. You hadn’t even considered that monsters might not practice monogamy. “There are—there are others who—who—”

Papyrus brushed a finger against your bottom lip, smiling wide as you cut yourself off with a hitch of your breath. “Some monsters only feel this way for one other, but it’s not uncommon for us to… _connect_ …with multiple partners. There’s nothing wrong with feeling the way you do.”

Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest that you thought it might just break free. You suddenly wanted to confide in Papyrus, to tell him how you had been hurt so badly by those you had trusted with your heart. You wanted to let him know that it would take time for you to be able to open yourself to him—to both of them—fully. But you knew, from the pounding—the painful hope swelling within your heart and threatening to burst into joy—that you trusted them enough to _try_.

**That’s all I wanted, sweetheart.**

“‘Papyrus,” you whispered, your hand moving to cup his face. “Can I kiss you?”

There was a brief flash of surprise in Papyrus’s eyes, as though he hadn’t expected you to ask, before his eyes burned bright and he nodded. As soon as he did, you shifted yourself forward, your hand sliding to the back of his skull as your lips met his teeth. His arms went around you in an instant, one of them supporting you while the other rested at your hip through the blanket. You could tell he was holding himself back, and you wanted none of it.

Pressing your lips softly but firmly against his mouth, you parted them just enough to flick your tongue out from between them. There was an earthy taste to him, almost like a vegetable with soil still clinging to its roots. You rolled your tongue against the tip of one of his teeth, finding a tiny nook where his jaw did not line them up fully. A shudder ran through Papyrus’s body as he continued to keep himself from reciprocating fully. He chose instead to press his closed mouth back against yours and grip you tight enough to send little sparks of pain through you. 

“What’s—wrong?” you asked between kisses, curling your hand to scrape your nails softly against his skull, just to feel another shudder go through him. You heard your friend give a quiet moan and you wondered if they could feel the sensations from both of you.

The thought only encouraged you.

**By—all means. Please—take it as encouragement.**

You smiled into another kiss, unable to stop a small, excited moan of your own from escaping as Papyrus’s fingers dug harshly into your skin. You were surrounded by the smell and warmth of him, and you were already breathless, but you wanted _more_.

“Papyrus—‘Pyrus, please—” 

He gave a tiny, desperate groan at your plea, suddenly shifting so that he was on top of you, his tall frame pressed against your body through the blanket that still covered you. You had maintained your kisses throughout, and with his weight settled over you, you were much more enthusiastic. You kicked off the blanket as quietly as you could, still wary of waking Sans despite what Papyrus had said.

“Frisk, I’m worried—” Papyrus interrupted himself with another soft moan as you ran your fingers along his spine. “—worried that I’ll hurt you.”

**Don’t be, Papyrus.**

You nodded, agreeing with your friend as you opened your eyes to see his heavily-lidded and pulsing hard and fast. You stared into them deliberately as you gave him another slow kiss, flicking your tongue against the tip of a tooth until he hesitantly relaxed his jaw. 

**Even if you give her a little nip, she’ll only enjoy it.**

You chuckled, taking the opportunity to run your tongue along his teeth, giving tender kisses to each until you could see his tongue tentatively appear from deep inside his mouth. You sighed happily and parted your lips wider to meet his tongue, curling yours around it and giving it little playful flicks. 

Encouraged by your enthusiasm, Papyrus sank further against you as you kissed, one of his hands running along your body. He took his time feeling every inch of you along the way, his fingers digging into your soft flesh and prodding the bones through your skin. 

**Such a curious pair.**

You smiled and laughed breathlessly, parting your legs and drawing your knees up to grip at the sides of Papyrus’s hipbone. You were pleased by the little gasp that he gave when the new position pushed his pelvis against yours. Your head swam slightly, as though you were becoming drunk on his touch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

**You were interested to see—if I could let some of your emotions through. Well there—they are.**

You were glad they had, as the heat radiating from you was intoxicating—the freedom of giving in and the smell of your arousal urged you on. You pressed your hips up into him, and again you were rewarded with a gasp. He tightened his grip on your thigh and lifted your leg higher to hook around him, giving him easier access to grind down against you. You panted softly into his kisses, running your tongue along his as he pressed deeper into your mouth. His teeth nipped along your lips as he did, but as your friend had said, you only enjoyed the small shocks of painful pleasure. 

When he broke off to nuzzle down your jawline and place his teeth against the crook of your neck, though, you had to wrap your mouth around his clavicle to keep quiet. He was so gentle that it drove you mad, just barely digging his sharp teeth into you as he rocked against your core. You could feet a hot tightness at your chest as he angled himself in such a way that the rough bone in his lower pelvis slid against the sensitive nub at the top of your sex.

“Papyrus…” you mewled, gasping and thrusting down against him again. You wrapped one arm around his shoulder to grip at his shoulder blade while the other reached down to hold his hip. You pulled at him desperately, encouraging him up and down your slit as  his hard bones pressed your trousers between the lips.

**That’s—it—that’s my girl—**  

He folded you in his arms and buried his face in your neck, braced against his forearms beneath you as he whimpered and gasped your name in an almost reverent voice. You were trying to be quiet, but it was so hard when the heat building between you was addling your brain, pulling at your heart, bringing you closer to the edge. You bit down hard on Papyrus’s bone, your tongue working against it thickly as your muffled moans grew in volume. You were—were already so—so close—

**Let go, sweetheart, just let it come!**

It only took a few more well-placed thrusts before you were whining in the back of your throat, your whole body shaking desperately underneath Papyrus’s heavy bones.

Your friend burst forth with a heavy, growling moan after clearly trying to hold themselves back, their shadowy body seeming to slip between you and Papyrus. You could barely breathe now, with the real and simulated weight pressing down on you. You let your head press back into your pillow, your eyes closing tight with pleasure. Your friend’s voice was strong enough that you knew they were speaking to both of you.

**It’s _my_ turn now.**

You writhed against Papyrus as he trembled above you, still thrusting against your oversensitive, soaking centre, his soft gasps going ragged. Now, though, there was the sensation of being filled that came with every thrust, and you unconsciously tensed your whole body around him. 

Your ground your hips down as your head was turned to the side by Papyrus’s nuzzling. You had to bite your lip hard to keep quiet as you were pushed through your overstimulation by your lovers. You were already beginning to edge closer to another orgasm as Papyrus’s teeth worked against your neck, his thrusts getting rough in their insistence.

**_Ahhh_ — _fuck_ — _yes_ —Papyrus, fuck her _hard—_**

“Frisk— _Frisk_ —” Papyrus panted against your ear, and your jaw went slack with how arousing it was to hear him so overwhelmed. “Frisk, I can’t—b-believe how luuucky—I aaaam—you’re so p-perfect— _nnn_ —so—so _amaziiing_ —” 

You were being slammed down into your bed by the eagerness of Papyrus’s thrusts, his hands hooking around your knees to drawing them close to your chest so he could grind deeper against you. You cried and whimpered with the feeling of discomfort, loving the wild way he bucked against you. The knowledge that your body was giving him such pleasure, combined with your lover’s roughness inside you was bringing you to your second peak fast.

**Use her, Papyrus— _fuck yes_ , use her until she comes again!—she— _loves it_ —she’s so wet, she wants you inside her so badly—**

With a ragged moan, Papyrus’s hands wrapped around to grasp at your breasts, kneading them hard enough that it sent little jolts of thrilling pain straight to your rhythmically clenching pussy. You couldn’t help the long, deep moan that escaped you, and your eyes flew open to check that Sans had not heard.

Your heart clenched when you saw that he was turned towards the two of you, watching you rut with rapidly pulsing, intensely hungry eyes. One hand was shoved down his trouser and rubbing desperately at his pelvis while the other held a grey, luminescent upside-down-heart-shaped object in his hands. As he massaged the heart with his thumb, a soft violet glow began in the depths of its opaque face, bathing his flushed face in contrasting colours.

Your pussy clenched _hard_ when you realised that he was pleasuring himself to the sight of you and Papyrus.

**_Ahhhhh_ , look at _that_ , sweetheart—I— _hah_ — _told you_ he wanted you—**

When he noticed you looking, though, he flinched and tried to stop, his hands stilling. Before he could, though, you made a growling sound of protest that surprised even you, and shook your head. His jaw went slack, his brow bones raising before he continued hesitantly, his hot breath fanning visibly out in front of his face. You held his gaze intently, watching as he pressed and rolled his thumb into the heart, his other hand rubbing hard at his bones as Papyrus groaned your name and used you roughly.

**You’re—you’re _enjoying_ this, aren’t— _mmm_ —aren’t you, my love?**

You whimpered as Papyrus’s teeth sank further into you before easing up, and then tightening again—you could tell he was getting close, and you wanted to help him get there. Making sure that Sans was watching you, you slid your hand between you and Papyrus and held your palm against his sternum.

“‘P-‘Pyrus,” you gasped, trying to hold back your own impending orgasm as your lover hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you over and over, “can—can I?”

“Yes—oh, God, Frisk, _yes_ — _please_ — _yes_ —”

Not waiting another moment, you slipped your hand up under his rib cage and felt around until your fingers brushed against what you knew must be the same heart-shaped organ as Sans’s. You gingerly pressed and massaged it in time with your lovers’ thrusts until both of you were trembling, desperate for release.

“ _Frisk_ — _I’m_ —I’m going to—!”

**Ohhh— _ffffuck_ —**

“Come, please, oh God, _please come for me_!” you begged, your eyes on Sans letting him know that you wanted the same from him, and you were rewarded with the sight of his head being thrown back as his back arched, his mouth wide with the obvious strength of his release.

With another few deep rubs and another harsh thrust against you, both you and Papyrus soon followed Sans, slamming into each other reflexively as you fell over your peak. Your eyes closed tight as you groaned deep in your throat, riding out your release with the sound of your lovers moaning in your mind and ears. Finally, you and Papyrus collapsed in a tangled heap, his breath hot against your neck as he made a soft sound of contentment.

**Mmm, goodness, that was…much more intense than I was expecting.**

You gave a sharp breath of laughter, opening your eyes so you could catch a glimpse of Sans’s post-release happiness as well, but you were surprised to see that he was already turned away from you. You could only see his back, as he was curled up on his side. You frowned, your heart sinking with dread. What was wrong? Had you misread the situation somehow? Did he…did he _not_ want to be included?

**Oh, sweetheart…maybe he just needs time.**

You worried your lip as you felt your friend gently cloak your heart in shadows once more, muffling the heat in your body. You decided not to think about it as Papyrus rolled off of you and drew you close against him, leaning down and pressing a gentle teeth-to-lips kiss on your mouth. You kissed him back happily, though it was somewhat spoiled by your sudden worry for Sans. The last thing you wanted was to have forced Sans into something he didn’t want.

“Frisk, that was—that was _perfect_ ,” Papyrus crooned, tucking your head underneath his chin and sighing. You smiled and slung an arm over his ribcage, feeling the warmth and flutters from his heart against your cheek. Warmth bloomed in your own heart, and you nuzzled against his collarbone, closing your eyes. “I’m so _happy_. So lucky you chose me.”

“Me too,” you said with a happy sigh of your own, your cheeks warm with pleasure at his praise.

“Is it okay if I sleep for a little while? I’m—” his words were cut off by a yawn, “—I’m just a bit tired now.”

**Poor, sweet Papyrus. Sleep now, darling.**

You hummed in agreement, rubbing small, lazy circles against his back. You waited until the tension had left him fully and he was clearly asleep before you shifted onto your other side, nestling back against him as you studied Sans’s stiff form.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you whispered into the stifling silence, “Sans?”

There was no response.

You frowned.

**Frisk, maybe he just needs time.**

You tried to keep quiet, telling yourself that your friend was right, but you _couldn’t_ just let him sit there and pretend to sleep when he could be hurting. “Sans, if you didn’t—” you whispered in a rush, “—if you didn’t want to—I didn’t mean to—to force you—”

“Frisk.”

Sans’s voice was so quiet that you could barely hear it past the soft wheezing from Papyrus. You gnawed at your lip anxiously. Was he upset with you? Was he going to say you were disgusting for wanting both of them? Was he going to hate you now?

**I don’t think he could hate you, even if he wanted to, poppet.**

There was another long silence, and you curled up, holding your hands over Papyrus’s arm that was slung over your chest. You needed the comfort he provided you, even while sleeping. Your mind was beginning to conjure scenarios of Sans telling you that you couldn’t see either of them anymore, since you couldn’t decide.

No—that wouldn’t happen. Right? Papyrus had said that monsters didn’t think that way. They took multiple partners frequently, he had said.

So why was Sans so rattled by what had happened between you?

You had been _certain_ he’d wanted it.

**He _does_ , poppet, he’s just being—**

“I’m sorry,” Sans whispered suddenly, his voice quivering with barely restrained emotion. Your heart clenched with pain, and you gripped Papyrus harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You took several breaths to clear yourself of the shock of hearing _him_ apologising to _you_. Why would he feel the need to apologise? Did he think that _you_ didn’t want what had happened? You thought you’d made yourself perfectly clear.

“Sans, why are you apologising?” you asked, confusion putting a hitch in your voice.

But there was no response, once again. You waited for several moments longer.

“Sans, please talk to me.”

Silence.

You took a shuddering breath before releasing it in a rush. You didn’t like just giving up and letting Sans wallow in whatever emotion was tangling him up, but you knew it would do no good right now to push. Your friend was right—he needed time. You would let him think it through, and possibly come to the realisation that you had wanted him just as badly as he had wanted you. That there was nothing to apologise for.

With the comforting thought that you could discuss it in the morning, when you had Papyrus to help you, you settled into the bed further, ready to wait out the long night in the arms of your new lover.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Frisk's past comes to say hello.
> 
> IIIIIIIIT'S HIIIIIIIGH TUMBLR
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> (occasionally 18+ nsfw, use caution for pity's saaaaaake)


	29. Lilli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk's past is now her present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOAH HEY WHAT HEY OH MY WHOAH HEY
> 
> i'm back
> 
>  
> 
> [ So here's some HorrorTale fanart that was sent to me by Blooper Berries on amino! ](http://aminoapps.com/p/quvwo)
> 
>  
> 
> GO GIVE THEM ALL KINDS OF LOVE AND SUPPORT BECAUSE IT IS SO GOOOOD
> 
> **Some quick content warnings** : animal death, talk of pregnancy and child loss.
> 
> Now onto another long chapter full of conversation woooOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo -zooms off on bicycle-
> 
> <3

You shook, standing outside under the milky, crimson-stained sky, your skin tingling with the sight of the pulsing moon. Your heart felt at once too big and too small in your chest, and your eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

It was almost morning.

You had attempted to settle into that soft place between waking and sleeping several times, while the brothers both slept, but you hadn’t been able to for longer than a few minutes at a time.

You were restless.

Irritable.

You needed something, but you weren’t sure what.

So you had left, sneaking from the room with only a glance to be sure that neither of the brothers had noticed. They hadn’t; they were both sleeping like the dead. You had smiled with quiet humour at the unintentional thought as you hopped from your windowsill and out into the dewy pre-dawn. You’d spent an hour or so making a cursory patrol around the close perimeter of the Home, your eye on the forest. You hoped dearly that nobody had escaped while you had caroused both in the city and in your bedroom.

You didn’t think you could reconcile the guilt if someone had.

You were already struggling as it was, you could tell. Your heart was aching in a familiar, almost nostalgic way, and you could feel the tightness behind your eyes that signalled distress. If you weren’t careful, you could very well panic yourself into a fit. You hadn’t had one in a few days, and you wanted to keep it that way, despite everything that had happened. You weren’t going to regret your decision to try to be closer to the brothers. You had made it with relatively little influence from your moon-madness.

As far as you could tell, you  _ had _ wanted to do what you’d done.

But.

But there was something eating at you, still.

As you wandered into the forest’s edge, done making the full round of the Home, your eye had caught on a gathering of weeds rustling weakly, but arrhythmically, as though there was a dying animal caught underneath. You’d glanced around to see that yes, this was actually one of your trapping spots. 

You’d bent down to find a small brown hare caught in one of your traps, its eyes wide and chest heaving with panic. You’d wondered why it was so weak if it had only been caught by the rope, but then you reached in and scooped it out, you saw that it had a large bite on its other side, which was still slowly oozing blood.

It was going to die, one way or another.

It was just a matter of time.

You’d ended up staring down at the thrashing hare with a sense of unease—almost disgust—and had taken out your knife and slit its throat before you could think. You held it close as it died, tears swiftly marring your vision. You had had no idea what had come over you, but as you stared up into the laughing moon after wandering aimlessly back out of the forest, you thought you knew.

You took a shuddering, hiccoughing breath, the blood from the hare soaking through your shirt. It was long dead, but you could still feel its life around you. It hadn’t—couldn’t have—known what would happen to it when it left its burrow to forage in the forest. It had just been trying to live—to survive the life it had been given. It never chose to be prey, and yet…

And yet…

**Frisk, that isn’t you.**

Wasn’t it?

Hadn’t you just been moving ever closer to this fate since you were only a child? Your mother’s death—your father’s negligence—your lovers’ betrayal—weren’t they all things that pushed you here, to this exact position you had found yourself in? Wasn’t everyone invariably, unavoidably moving through life as prey to fate?

You had simply reached the goal swifter than others.

And like the hare, you had been caught.

First by circumstance.

Then by death.

And then…by fate.

**Please try not to dwell on this, sweetheart.**

How could you not? Was this all there was left for you? Were you in the trap now? Had you been crippled by your growing feelings for the brothers? For your past loves? For your new family in the Home? 

Were you simply waiting for the hunter to arrive and put you out of your misery?

Would  _ they _ think of who you had been, before your death? Would they even think of you as someone capable of love?

Or would you only be another body, called to the slaughter like the cattle you were?

You had no way of knowing.

And that was what scared you most of all.

Because what you  _ did _ know was, if the monsters’ master was anything like your friend, then there was no doubt in your mind that there would be no mercy. No sweetness to your death. No purpose. Nothing but the end in mind, as your soul was discarded like so much rubbish.

**If they** **_are_ ** **anything like me, then I promise you that your soul won’t be thrown away. Though how much of a comfort that is, I don’t know.**

It wasn’t any at all.

But it wasn’t as though it would do any good for you to panic about it. Because the simple fact was that you could thrash and fight against this—your inevitable death, your  _ fate _ —as hard as you liked, and nothing would come of it. You could cry, you could lay down and give in, and it would make no difference.  _ You _ had no say in what happened to you.

And in some strange way, that was the most freeing thought of all.

**You seem to have forgotten again that you aren’t alone in this. That it isn’t by your actions alone that you will either live or die.**

No. You hadn’t forgotten.

**If you truly believe I would simply allow for this master to take you from me, then perhaps I should remind you of the truth.**

No, it wasn’t that you thought they would  _ allow _ it.

**Then you believe me weaker than them.**

Not weaker. But perhaps less active.

**I’m hurt, Frisk. You think I’ve gotten lazy.**

You laughed wetly, tearing yourself from the moon’s mocking eye. You looked down to the hare in your arms and shook your head.

Perhaps lazy wasn’t the right word, but you were unsure if your friend would be able to gain as much power as they would need to stand against this master. If they were also a god, then wouldn’t it be more prudent for your friend to leave you behind and seek a stronger host? Someone who didn’t feel the madness pulling at the edges of their mind when they gazed too closely at them. Someone who could properly  _ connect _ .

**What makes you think we haven’t?**

You were under the impression that they had to expend quite a bit of their energy just to keep the two of you together and functional.

**Hah! The only thing expending my power at the moment is keeping that fool god’s dirty fingers from touching you again.**

You blinked, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

**Frisk. We are connected on a deeper level than I ever expected from your family’s line. Most of you fought to keep me at a distance.**

You looked down to the dewy grass beneath your boots, falling back against a tree. Yes, that sounded about right. You had always been the odd one out.

**Yes, you are, thankfully. You’ve brought me back to life, in a way. I haven’t been so active and alert since…**

Since when?

**It’s…probably best to forget those times.**

You frowned. No. If you didn’t get the luxury of cutting out the painful part of your life and forgetting it, then neither did they.

_ When _ had they last been this active?

**It was a** **_very long_ ** **time ago, Frisk. Even for me, it is difficult to remember more than a few hazy memories. The world was…different then. Full of shadows. My brothers and sisters were still alive. Humans still knew my name. I was—foolish. I—I was—betrayed, and in turn I—betrayed.**

You had no idea what they were saying—what they were trying to tell you. You felt a wave of regret from them, deeper than anything you’d felt from them before. It hurt your heart even through the numbing shadows to feel that amount of pain from someone you loved. You wanted nothing more than the ability to take them in your arms and whisper soothing comforts. You may not be capable of understanding what had happened to cause it, but the cure was universal.

**I appreciate the sentiment, darling, but this pain is helpful. It reminds me of who I am. Why I should never forget the mistakes I’ve made, so that I never make them again.**

You could understand that. 

Of all people, you could understand.

**No, Frisk. What happened to you wasn’t your fault.**

You often felt it was.

**I know you do. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.**

You nodded gently, letting your head fall back against the tree’s rough bark and basking in the feeling of your friend’s soft shadows stretching down to rest against your shoulders. It was what you needed—what you craved. With fear and uncertainty came the untameable desire for confirmation, affection, praise.

It was why you were so anxious about what you’d done with the brothers.

**Do you regret it?**

You’d told yourself you wouldn’t.

Because you  _ had  _ wanted it, there was no denying that.

But had you wanted it for the right reasons? Were you using Papyrus and Sans as an outlet for your insecurities? Were you simply trying to replace those lost to you?

You didn’t  _ think _ you were.

You didn’t feel as though they were being used as a replacement, when you looked in Papyrus’s eyes and saw the deep affection blooming there. And Sans was a mystery unto himself, with his whirlwind affections. You never quite knew where you stood with him, but you were  _ sure  _ he was feeling much the same as you and Papyrus. Not only had Papyrus  _ confirmed  _ it, but your heart just…knew. You weren’t going to ignore the pull—the powerful attraction—between you.

What you felt for both of them was familiar, yes, but so different at the same time.

They were  _ not _ your past.

They were not—

**What is that?**

Your attention snapped outwards once more at the sharp interruption, your head whirling around to where your friend had turned. You were standing rigid and tall once more as your eyes scanned for any sign of what could have alerted your friend. You strained your ears, your mouth going dry with the sudden adrenaline pumping through you.

What was it?

… _ Hoofbeats. _

**Someone is in a hurry.**

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You were on the opposite side of the Home from the stables. You wouldn’t be able to see who was racing towards the Home from this position.

**Start running, and you might just catch them.**

You immediately fell into action, carelessly discarding the hare and your maudlin thoughts with it. Images of a horde of policemen galloping into the Home with their truncheons and rifles spurred you on until you were flying across the flat, dying grass lawn, your heart bursting with fear. What if you couldn’t get there fast enough to convince the constable to return to the city with his men? What if they demanded to use the Home as a more fortified headquarters? They had threatened to do that before, but the constable had stopped them every time.

But the constable wasn’t himself anymore.

You crossed the grounds in record time, rocketing through the gates to see the guards gone and a single horse standing at the doors of the stable, his flank heaving and his neck foamy with sweat as he nickered with fear. You quickly calmed the horse down, giving it soft shushes and pats until it was no longer panicking, and then led it to a stall where it had plenty of food and water. You took your time with everything, your fear evaporating and being replaced with silent panic.

Your mind was spinning and tilting like your world had shifted underfoot.

You knew this horse.

You knew that saddle. Those stirrups. The small braid hidden in his mane.

You knew his rider.

**Frisk, what is it? Whose horse is this? Is it Zachary’s or—**

No.

It was  _ hers _ .

Lilli’s.

**Oh,** **_Frisk_ ** **—**

You didn’t listen to what else your friend was whispering to you. Your soul was breaking, cracking straight down the middle.

You weren’t ready for this.

You weren’t ready to see her again.

It had been so long, and you still weren’t ready.

You had to leave.

You flew away from the stables as fast as you’d arrived, heading back to your room to get a sense of sanctuary—of normalcy. She wouldn’t know where your room was. You would be safe from your past there. You wouldn’t have to tell the brothers anything. You could just get yourself cleaned up, changed, and climb back into bed with Papyrus until the thrice-damned moon ceased its cackling and faded away back to the hell it belonged to—

“—what should we tell her if she comes back?”

You drew up short, one hand against the wall beside your bedroom’s window, your lashes fluttering as you fought to keep your ragged breath as quiet as possible. There was someone in your room speaking to Papyrus and Sans. It had been Papyrus who had spoken, and by the fact that he hadn’t stuttered whatsoever, you knew it had to be someone he was fairly familiar with.

That meant it must be the matron.

Your eyes narrowed as you held a hand over your mouth, palm pressed tight against your lips. You were feeling more than faint with how panicked and breathless you were.

**Frisk, just** **_calm down_ ** **—**

You twisted and recoiled as your friend tried to comfort you, wishing you could slap the shadows away. You immediately regretted the impulse when you felt them withdraw from all but your soul, their hurt obvious.

You braced yourself against the wall, shame crawling along your back and warming your face. You were sorry, but you didn’t know how to cope with this. It was one thing to see and speak to Zachary or William, but—but seeing her would—

**Hush, poppet. It is alright. Listen.**

“—returns within the hour, please tell her that I need to see her in my office. There is someone there to see her. It’s urgent.” There was a pause from the other voice, who was most certainly the matron. You would know her short, proper accent anywhere. “I’m sorry to put this on you, lads, but she’s in danger.”

“Frisk is?” Sans’s voice, rough and heavy with dread, drifted through the window. He sounded tired.

“No, my boy. The woman who has come to me for sanctuary.”

There was another brief pause, before Sans spoke again. “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Lilli, would it?”

Your hand trembled against your mouth, and you closed your eyes. You knew what was coming, though part of you wished it weren’t true.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. How do  _ you _ two know her?”

But you didn’t wait around to hear how Sans and Papyrus could possibly have learned her name, or how she was connected to you. With several sharp, shuddering breaths that made your vision go white around the edges, you turned and fled.

**Sweetheart, please calm down. Where are you going?**

You were going to the matron’s office.

And you were perfectly calm.

**You obviously are** **_not_ ** **. Why are you going to the office? I thought you didn’t want to see this woman.**

You wanted to see her more than anything else in the world. That didn’t mean you were ready for it. You didn’t have a choice, though. You weren’t going to stand by idly while she was in danger, no matter what trauma there was between you. You would get over it, even if you did feel sick to your stomach as you strode back through the tall front doors to the Home, dragging them back with you as you went. You made sure the entrance was barred, since the guards weren’t around to keep watch, and moved swiftly through the halls until you stood at the matron’s office.

The door was closed.

You stood just in front of it, your knees locked with fear. You knew you had to go inside. You’d known you would have to face your past eventually. You just weren’t ready to see it so soon.

**Be calm, my love. I am here with you.**

You nodded, swallowing past the dryness in your mouth. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as you reached for the handle and, in one motion, stepped inside the dark room. There was a lamp lit on the desk, and a few candles tucked inside of glass covers placed on the sideboard, but other than that, there was no light to see by. 

It didn’t matter, though, that the shutters were drawn. You didn’t need much light to spot the two figures hunched together in the chairs placed across from the matron’s. They had their heads bent and their hands clasped in the space between them, as though they were praying together. Their golden and sandy hair tangled softly together, and you could see that their eyes had been closed just before you had stepped inside. Now, though, they were open wide, and staring over at you.

Lilli and William.

A thick hush fell over the room, different from what had been before.

Your eyes first met William’s—his cornflower blues melancholy and regretful as they searched yours for something you weren’t sure you were ready to give.

Then, as always inevitable, your gaze turned to Lilli.

Her hazel eyes were wide, her pink mouth falling open with surprise as she twisted to face you.

There were years snapping and bending, twisting and tugging between you, and your hearts were on opposite ends. You had no words to say. What could you  _ possibly _ say, after so long?

You thought about turning and leaving again, your legs begging to take you far away. But then—

“Frisk?”

—a breathy voice, softer than the wind on a still summer’s morning, carrying the promise of love, of contented smiles turned towards the sun, hands barely touching, yet irreversibly connecting two souls in an instant.

“ _ Frisk _ .”

She was standing now, her hands reaching for you as though pulled by strings. Your heart restarted, pumping hard and strong, remembering how to keep you alive through the pain of seeing into the past.

Still, you let her come to you.

And when she crashed against you, her arms wrapping around your middle without hesitation, you simply stood, frozen.

What were you supposed to do?

Should you embrace her as well?

Would she take that as tacit forgiveness for what she’d done? Would you be excusing the years of silence, of soul-crushing misery with a single embrace?

Would you be betraying Papyrus?

“Dear God in heaven,  _ thank you _ ,” came a lilting whisper at your shoulder, where Lilli had buried her face. She clung to you as if you were the last piece of driftwood in a raging storm at sea. “ _ Thank you _ . Merciful Lord, I thought I’d lost you forever.”

A shudder ran across your spine like a mouse racing towards home and sanctuary with a cat at its tail.

You met William’s gaze with little attention, your mind flailing for what to do. He was watching you intently. When you tried and failed to focus more on him, he gave a little nod of understanding—perhaps even camaraderie—and simply stood up to slip out past you out the door.

You listened to the door close with a soft click. 

It was just you and Lilli now.

Lilli, the woman you’d fallen in love with as a—a child, really. The woman you’d whispered your secrets, your desires, your soul to in the small hours of the night, under a blanket of stars. Who had looked to you for every comfort, and had returned them to you in kind. Who had reminded you that you were  _ not _ a failure,  _ not _ broken,  _ not  _ monstrous.

Lilli, whom you hadn’t seen or heard a single word from since you’d been committed.

The woman you’d had to  _ mourn _ , out of complete and utter desperation.

Because  _ your _ Lilli would never leave you to despair all alone in hospital. Would never leave you to rot in a cell of a room while doctors force-fed you medication after medication.

Therefore, your Lilli must have died.

How could your heart understand that she wasn’t dead after all—that she simply hadn’t cared to save you from the dark place you’d fallen to all those years ago?

**Perhaps—if you do care for this woman—you should not judge her before you have heard an explanation.**

You felt tears spill over onto your cheeks before you were even aware of them gathering.

“Frisk?” Lilli said, finally leaning back and separating from you. You gulped down a long, sharp breath, your eyes turning away from the woman in front of you. You couldn’t look at her. “Frisk, what’s wrong?” she asked, her sing-song Welsh accent thick in her distress. The fingertips of her left hand came to rest feather-light on your jawline, and you closed your eyes. Her hand was still as soft as ever—time and the grind of life had not hardened her as it had you.

You took an involuntary step back.

“Tell me what is wrong,  _ cariad _ ,  _ please _ .”

Your eyes snapped open once more, sharp and angry on hers. “Do  _ not _ call me that.”

She flinched back as if slapped and your heart cried with regret, though your face showed nothing. “Frisk, what—”

“Shall I tell you  _ what is wrong _ , Lillian?” you ground out, your voice clipped and formal. You drew yourself up to your full height as your anger grew, disbelief at her insensitivity feeding the fire. “Perhaps  _ you _ might have forgotten how you  _ abandoned _ me, but  _ I have not _ !”

Lilli’s face was stricken, one hand reaching up to grasp at the lacy ruff at her dress collar. She looked incredibly uncertain, but there was no fear in her face. Of that, you were grateful. You may not be pleased with how flippant she was about your past, but the last thing you wanted was to scare her while she was already obviously distressed about something else.

Ah. That’s right.

You weren’t even meant to be talking about this. You were meant to be finding out why she was in danger, and why she’d apparently requested you. You closed your eyes and took slow, deep breaths to calm yourself, turning away so you could gather yourself.

Finally, after a long and painful silence, you opened your eyes once more to see Lilli facing away from you, her shoulders hunched.

“But let’s not discuss history long-past,” you said, careful to shape your voice into one that was at least partly professional. “Let’s talk about why you’re here. The matron said you were in danger? That you’re looking for sanctuary?”

“Yes.”

Your mouth quivered with barely restrained emotion at the quiet, defeated word. “Would you like to explain?”

“No,” she said, her shoulders hunching forward even further. Your hand fisted at the sight, fighting the urge to reach out and comfort her. “I apologise for requesting to see you. I was wrong to do so; if you would give the matron my apologies and thanks as well, I’ll just be going to my—”

“Lilli,  _ for God’s sake _ , just tell me what’s wrong!” you burst out, your body taking over from your mind. You reached out and took her shoulder, turning her to face you again. She looked desperately miserable, and you suddenly realised how dark the circles under her eyes were, and how pinched her mouth was. This close, you could actually see the fact that there was a dark bruise on her forehead, hiding behind some curls that had escaped her bun. She looked…like she had been in a fight.

“What happened?” you whispered, the bottom of your stomach dropping to your feet. You’d never seen her so hurt, and you’d been there for her during a Blood Cycle. She’d never been quite as affected as you, but she hadn’t been exactly easy on herself. 

“How did you get these bruises and scratches?” you asked when she looked away. Not thinking beyond the very next moment, you held a hand to her cheek, the pad of your thumb dusting across one of the smaller scratches. You watched her lips part and felt her shiver away from you before leaning heavily into your touch. Her eyes crept back to yours, uncertainty clear in her expression. 

Uncertainty and  _ hope _ .

Your heart clenched.

“Lilli—” you breathed, your body suddenly aware of how close you were. Of how she turned her face up to yours, her eyes half-lidded. There was no mistaking her intention when her hands came to rest at your chest before sliding up to your neck and the back of your head.

But you still couldn’t bring yourself to tell her no.

You allowed her to pull you together, your lips fitting perfectly on hers as though they’d been created for this sole purpose. Your hands dropped to her waist, and you closed your eyes tight, your heart splintering with regret. You gripped her to you with desperation as you kissed, knowing how wrong it was to be taking advantage. A part of you—a very large part of you— _ needed _ this. Needed to know that though she may not have loved you enough to stay with you through your darkest moments, she had held at least an affection for you in her heart for this long.

But that didn’t stop you from breaking away when she tried to deepen the kiss, your hands coming up to hold her at arm’s length. 

You were gasping for breath now, both because of the kiss and your sudden, blooming panic.

You had  _ kissed Lilli _ .

Oh, God.

_ What had you done _ ?

Papyrus would never forgive you.

He may be fine with you having feelings for his brother, but how could he understand you doing this?

**Don’t worry about Papyrus right now, poppet—you need to stay calm and focus on what’s happening** **_now_ ** **. Stop troubling yourself with what** **_might_ ** **happen.**

You gripped Lilli’s arms to keep your hands from shaking, and stared into her sad, yet strangely smiling eyes. “Frisk…” she said, her voice so full of affection that it was suddenly difficult to breathe. It reminded you strongly of how Papyrus spoke to you now. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

Your heart cried and begged for her to ask you anything but that. Because no matter how much you wished you didn’t anymore, you had to say, “I do, Lilli. God help me, I do love you.”

“You do love me,” she repeated, with that same heartbreakingly sweet, yet melancholy smile. “But.”

Your eyebrows twitched together before you sighed and nodded. “But not enough.”

There was a pregnant pause between you before she smiled wider and nodded as well. “I’m sorry, Frisk.” When you dropped your hands back to your sides in surprise, she quickly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you in another tight hug. “I’m sorry it took me so long to return to you,” she whispered at your ear, her breath tickling you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see the truth sooner. Please, I hope you can forgive me someday.”

With a brushing of her lips against your cheek and another of her soul-wrenching smiles, she stepped around you and left the room.

You stood in stunned silence, barely hearing William behind you, asking her if she was alright and what was going to happen now. Their footsteps moved down the hall away from you, and just as you almost couldn’t hear them anymore, you woke up, spinning around to chase after them.

The matron stood in the doorway, tall and imposing in her full uniform, her hands clasped before her.

You drew up suddenly, pulling a surprised hiss between clenched teeth.

“Matron,” you exhaled.

She only gave you a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes, before stepping inside and closing the door. You watched her with wary eyes as she went around her desk to open the shutters on her windows, letting in the grey morning light.

“Frisk.”

You glanced back at the closed door, wishing you could follow Lilli and Will, but not wanting to disrespect the matron. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I believe it’s time that I told you a story.”

Your eyebrows snapped high on your forehead, and your attention was caught.

“Once, a very long time ago now, there was a young woman, much like yourself, who lived at this very Home. Only it wasn’t a Home as it is now. Back then, it was a place for young women to be treated for…various illnesses.”

You took a few steps closer to the matron, but she didn’t seem to notice, she was so caught in her story.

“Illnesses of the mind…of the body…but mostly they attempted to treat perceived illnesses of the soul.  Wanton behaviours. Wanderlust. Disloyalty. So many names for much the same cause, with much the same treatment. It was the devil’s hand itself that had wrapped around these poor girls’ hearts, they said, and it was their duty to remove it by any means necessary.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sure you know how treatment of that calibre results.”

Another pause, while your stomach clenched with queasiness.

You did know.

“In any case, this young woman had been admitted alongside a particularly virulent rash of reported cases much the same as hers. Women and girls all along the countryside were losing their morals—their very souls. They were leaving their families, their homes, their husbands—everything a woman ought to have at that time.

“But this girl had a secret. She cared not one bit about any of it. She wanted to see the world, to have her feet take her to places no man had set foot upon, and to claim it as her own. She wanted not to be forced into a cage and be told to sing its praises, but to fly free and wild.”

There was a very long pause, and you took another few steps until you were standing with your hip against the desk, close enough to reach out and touch the matron if you wished.

Still, though, she faced the rising sun, her eyes gazing into the distant past.

“So you might imagine how devastating it was to be placed in a cage of stone and steel and told that she wouldn’t be leaving until she agreed to transfer to a slightly larger cage known as marriage.”

She laughed, brief and harsh.

“Well, she was having none of that. So one day, after weeks of this treatment, she decided she would simply…leave. So she did. She stole a pair of men’s trousers and a shirt, loaded up a sack with necessities, and climbed the fence to freedom.

“She ran as though her life depended on it, though she could have no idea how true that was. She hiked over the mountain and through the forest, and on the night that the Blood Cycle began, she was already in the next city over. She had never stopped running for what seemed like days straight.

“But the moment the stained moon’s gaze struck hers, she began to feel…less inclined to run. More interested in resting for a while, catching up on the sleep and food she had missed while imprisoned. She began to realise it wasn’t so bad, staying in one place. Even in the few days she was there, she had made friends. She had found people who seemed to care for her, despite them quickly discovering that she was not the man she was disguised to be. So, when they mentioned that they were travelling merchants who would love to have her come along, she didn’t hesitate to agree.”

The matron’s voice croaked to a stop.

**I’m not sure I like where this is going.**

Neither did you.

“It was a trap.”

Your heart shrank into a painful knot.

“Did—” you began before you could think. “Did they hurt y—her?”

The matron smiled bitterly. “No. The travellers never laid a hand on the girl. No…no, the trap was laid by someone—or something—much more powerful. It whispered to the people in the forest who lived along the road. Told them to fell a tree so that it blocked the main road through. It wormed into the travellers’ minds—suggested that there was also a perfectly suitable road around the mountain.”

She ‘tsk’ed. “Suitable perhaps if one would like to lose one’s life. But the travellers had not been to the region before, and the girl had not been there long enough to know. So they diverted from the forest path, choosing instead to take the mountain, despite how much they were warned by the locals.

“They were not afraid of ghosts.”

She fingered the long string of rosary beads, worrying them between her thumb and the side of her index finger.

“What fools they were. What a fool the girl was. For in the middle of the night, when the moon shone down on her, romantic and sweet as a lover’s face, she left the camp. She followed no path, then, but the one in her heart. And it took her straight into Hell.”

The matron finally looked over at you, her face solemn. You stood up a little straighter, and her expression softened.

“It was there that she met the monsters. She’d heard many stories all through her life about how monsters used to roam the earth much as humans do now, but who would ever believe children’s tales? But there was no denying the truth anymore. She was found by two very rough, but very kind skeleton monsters, after nearly being devoured by some particularly vicious animal monsters. They took her in and showed her mercy where none else would.”

Your grip on the desk grew so tight that you could swear you heard the wood groaning. Sans and Papyrus had known the matron when she was young? Had found her—taken care of her, even?

Why had they all kept this from you?

**Everyone has their secrets, poppet.**

The matron seemed to understand without asking how upset you were. You were once again being kept out of the loop by those you were supposed to be able to trust with your life.

**You are being hypocritical, love. You do not offer us the same courtesy that you expect.**

You calmed down considerably, at that. Your friend was right. You  _ had  _ kept things from them—were still keeping things from the brothers—simply because they were painful. You hadn’t felt they were important for them to know, but look where you were now. Both Zachary and Lilli had followed you to your sanctuary, and had thrust the past back into the present.

You resolved to speak to the brothers about it as soon as you went back to them.

The matron lifted an eyebrow at you to silently ask if you were better now, and you gave her the barest nod in return. She took a slow, deep breath and exhaled before continuing.

“It didn’t take long before the girl was given over to the king and queen, however. The skeletons weren’t happy about it, but they had no reason to disobey the calls for the human to be sent to them. The girl was not scared, despite how horrible the underground was. She held her head high as she was tossed at the feet of the king and queen, and it was said later that it was this simple action that won their hearts in that single moment.

“So, instead of giving the girl to their master, they kept her for themselves. They treated her as royalty in turn, and everyone in the underground knew of the king and queen’s consort, and the death sentence that came with any attempt to harm her. It took a long time for the girl to reconcile these monsters with their un-monstrous ways, but once she did, she grew to love them just as deeply as they loved her.

“No longer was she plagued with the desire to be free, for she had found something better than freedom. Love. She stayed there for many years, kept sheltered from the horrors of the underground by her lovers. They told her that they needed her to safe and happy in the palace, for any harm or distress that she felt would also be felt by them, so deeply had they bonded. With no reason to distrust them, and no desire to know why they kept her from the lower levels of the underground, she simply basked in love and closeness, content to stay ignorant.”

The matron’s hands were visibly trembling now, and your eyes were caught on the sight, a part of you quailing at the horror you knew must be coming.

“But then…one day…”

A pause, a shudder.

“She fell pregnant.”

You realised you were grasping at the pendants under your shirt when you felt them slide across each other. You tried to let go, but you could not.

Your friend stroked your soul and held you in their arms.

You watched the matron’s throat work for several long moments before she said,

“The pregnancy did not last long, as the child was mostly composed of the king’s and queen’s magic, with a human’s soul nestled deep inside its body.”

The matron’s shoulders fell, and it was painful for you to look in her eyes, distant as they were.

“He was the most beautiful thing the girl had ever seen. She loved him instantly, in a way she had never known possible. But when she reached for him, needing to feel her child nestled within her arms, something—fell over the king and queen. Something dark, and dreadful, and alien. They clung to the mewling child with hollow eyes and slack mouths, and for the first time in the underground, the girl was afraid.

“For while she had witnessed other monsters fall prey to the compulsion, she had never thought the king or queen would. They were  _ strong _ . They were  _ whole _ . But in the underground, where manna flows down throats and into the souls of every monster,  _ no one is safe _ . On that night, the king and queen broke their lover’s heart and soul as they took their child away, deep into the heart of Hell. No matter how long she screamed, no matter how hard she cried…no one came to help her. No one came to save her child from the beast’s grasping tendrils.”

The matron was completely still, now, her eyes just as hollow as the king and queen in the story.

“The next day…the next day…”

There was a horrible, sickening pause, and she did not need to say any more for you to understand.

“Once she’d left the underground, through sheer determination alone, she fled. She left everything she had ever loved behind. She tried anything she could to forget, to bury the past where it belonged. She even fought in many wars, disguised as a man, hoping to at least serve some purpose before she died. But death never came for her. No matter how reckless she was with her life, she never seemed to be the unlucky soul whom death chose. So she continued on, determined to destroy those memories inside her.

“But every time the Blood Moon rose, despite how she tried to hide, she could swear there was children’s laughter carried to her on a soft wind smelling of flowers and decay.”

The matron seemed to come back to herself, her eyes finding you with a horrified expression. She gave you a small, comforting smile, but you couldn’t let go of the image of the girl you had seen in a vision, bloodied and crying for her stolen child.

“Eventually, though, the girl found herself drawn back to her home, to where part of her soul still rested. She found that the Home she had lived in all those years ago was now abandoned, left to rot. It was incredibly difficult for the girl to return to this place, where her painful journey had started. 

“But something stirred in her, as well, born from the ashes of the girl she used to be. She thought of the other girls who had been forced into this cage, who had suffered just as she had. She thought of the stories she had heard in the years past of how both men and women went missing every Blood Cycle, drawn to the mountain to never be seen again. She thought of the untold horrors that rested within the mountain, ready to be awoken again at the next Cycle.

“So as she stood in the shadow of the mountain, she felt her soul change. It hardened, putting on its armour and standing tall to face the challenge put to it. She swore an oath, then: she would make this place into a true Home for all the girls just like her, who needed guidance, and protection, where they had only met with neglect. 

“She would shelter them from everything that the human and monster worlds could throw at them, until they were ready to fight for themselves. She would do this until the last breath had left her body, and if she had any say, she’d continue to do so afterwards as well.”

Silence fell in the office, thick and heavy.

**There is something...about that story...**

You were too stunned to keep yourself from saying, “But Matron, how is that possible? My aunt did not come to be here until it was long since St. Agatha’s, and you were still a young woman then.”

You realised your mistake as soon as you’d spoken, but the matron only chuckled, her hands tucked inside her apron pockets once more. The disturbing emptiness had left her eyes, and you were immensely grateful for that.

“Was I?” she said, moving to sit at her chair as though she hadn’t just told you something so personal that you could hardly breathe. “It was so long ago, I can hardly remember. My old mind does wander so.”

You didn’t believe that for a single moment, but you decided to let it go.

**I doubt she’d tell you how it’s possible anyway, though I’m certain I have an idea.**

“Matron,” you began slowly, sitting across from her as she withdrew a small glass and a bottle and poured herself some brandy, “why did you tell me all that?”

Taking a tiny sip of her drink before answering, she said, “Was that not obvious, child? I have told you this story because I see much of my old self in you.”

Your spine hit the chair’s back as you flinched away, and she chuckled again, though it was not a happy sound.

“I’m afraid I may have failed you once again, Frisk. I have tried my best to teach you in the only way I know how, but I fear I have been allowing you to continue on in the dark, where I could be shedding light.”

“I don’t understand, Matron,” you said, your voice subdued.

She shook her head. “I am not blind, my child. I am quite aware of what has been happening in my Home, though I will cut you off  _ right now _ —” she emphasised her words enough that you closed your mouth before you could voice the apology that had sprung to escape, “—and tell you that it is not a particularly pressing concern of mine, what you do with those two, so long as I know you are safe in this place. What  _ does _ concern me is the confusion and fear I know you will be experiencing at the moment.”

She leaned back and clasped her hands together, her elbows resting on the arms of her chair, her face still and serene. “So please, let us discuss.”

You immediately shook your head, quailing at the idea of telling the  _ matron _ of your sins—of the desperately  _ wrong  _ things you had done in your life. She might understand some things, yes—you knew now just how unusual her life had been—but that didn’t mean she would understand this.

**Perhaps you should offer her the chance to before outright refusing help freely given.**

You stilled, your mind racing at your friend’s words. Your eyes flitted all around the room, unable to stay focused on anything, much less the matron’s patient eyes.

What…could the harm be?

Surely, she of all people could forgive you.

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you opened your mouth and said, “I’m falling in love with both Sans and Papyrus, despite still having feelings for my last loves.”

The matron just nodded. “I had guessed as much, my dear. One does not love as many as I have without recognising the look in others.”

Your eyes snapped back to hers, your eyebrows drawing together. “Do you mean to say that you—that you loved someone other than the king and queen?”

There was a brief pause before the matron broke out in loud, amused laughter.

**Oh, dear, Frisk. Perhaps you didn’t understand me when I told you that your aunt and the matron had been…** **_friends_ ** **.**

Understanding hit you like a wheelbarrow of bricks to the head. “Oh, Lord, do you mean to say that you and my  _ aunt _ —”

“Amongst others, yes, child,” the matron said, still chuckling to herself. Once she’d gotten herself back under control, she smiled at you with a wicked twinkle in her eye. “I had been wondering if Fairchild would remember.”

There was a soft tickle at your throat, and you stepped aside to let your friend have partial control. “ **Yes, well, it would be difficult to forget something like that, don’t you think?** ”

The matron just smiled wider.

You decided you’d heard enough about that. “So,” you said pointedly.

“So,” the matron repeated, her eyes giving you a knowing look that you had to dart your eyes away from, “it is perfectly natural for you to be feeling this way, Frisk. But you need to remember that while you may have lingering bonds with your past lovers, it doesn’t mean that you are in any way obliged to give them your love, still. You should not forsake the love growing between you and the brothers simply because you are unsure of what is to come.”

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek, suddenly. “But Matron, I—I’m still so unsure of even what I’m feeling for the brothers. Isn’t it…wrong?” you ventured, unable to keep the desperate hope from your voice that she would tell you that no, it wasn’t wrong.

“Does it feel wrong?”

Your eyebrows shot up at her words. “No, but—”

“Do the brothers feel it is wrong?”

Your blossoming hope immediately wilted. “Papyrus doesn’t, but Sans does.”

The matron’s eyes sparked with some emotion you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Anger? Remorse? Protectiveness? Perhaps it was all three.

“Sans does not understand  _ what _ he is feeling at the moment, Frisk. He is suffering from wounds cut into his soul long ago. He has always been particularly susceptible to the manna’s pull—to the compulsions. He is held so much tighter than any other monster, including his brother.” She sighed, and downed her drink in one gulp, swallowing with a grimace. “He will be imagining that the connection between you is fabricated by the compulsions within him. He will likely be afraid of what he is capable of, if he allows himself to bond with you.”

You winced at the reminder of the matron’s traumatic past before remembering Sans’s face in the city, when you had seen what he had done to the doors of the police station. He had look immediately regretful—almost resigned.

“I suppose I can understand that, if he knows about…what happened, before.” You sighed. “Especially since he did hurt Zachary when we were in the city.”

The matron nodded. “Lillian told me about what he’d done to Zachary. It was nothing that the awful young man didn’t deserve, for what he’s been doing.”

You and your friend both snapped to attention. “ _ Lilli told you _ ? But I thought she just came here. How did she even—”

The matron smiled thinly as you cut yourself off, your mind stuttering like a malfunctioning clockwork toy. “No, my dear, she called me in the middle of the night, terribly distraught. She told me that she and Zachary had been in a fight—verbal as well as physical—over the fact that he had tried to keep her locked away during the Blood Cycle. He had let it slip that he had known you had made your home here, and had always known where you were, where Lillian did not.”

Your entire world was spinning. Lilli hadn’t known where you were? But she—how could she—

“Apparently, according to young William, Zachary had kept it secret from them since you had been committed to hospital. She had been under the impression that you were getting her letters that she sent via Zachary, but I believe it’s clear now why you never received them.” She tutted again. “That lad has never had a terribly sound judgement, my child. Such a pity.”

When your friend gave your chest a brief nudge, you remembered to take a breath, though you nearly choked on it.

Zachary had—

He had kept you apart—

Had  _ always _ tried to keep you apart.

He had _always_ _hurt you_ —

_ He had hurt Lilli. _

**Well, perhaps next time Sans has the chance to kill him, he’ll take it, and we’ll be rid of him for good.**

No.

You wouldn’t give him the chance.

You would do it  _ yourself _ .

You gave a hard shake of your head, hate spiking through you. “Of course he did.  _ Of course _ .”

The matron nodded sadly. “So perhaps you might give Lillian the chance to explain herself properly now, my child?”

You gave her a sharp look. “Did you tell me this just so I would forgive her for abandoning me?”

The matron smiled, though her eyes pinned you with reproach. “What is there to forgive, if the sin never truly happened?”

Your head snapped back as though she’d struck you. Oh, God, she was right. You had come to Lilli with a hard heart, not knowing the truth of the matter, and you’d hurt her with your ignorance.

The least you could do was give her another chance to explain herself.

You slouched, letting your head fall into your hands. You stayed there for a few moments before murmuring, “I’m an idiot, Matron.”

“I’m afraid it happens to the best of us, child.”

You peered up at her. “So she is staying, then?”

The matron nodded. “With Iris. William will be staying in the guards’ rooms for tonight.”

That suddenly reminded you of, “Is that why the guards weren’t at the gate, Matron?”

A troubled look passed across her face, but fell away as soon as it had come. “I can’t say I was aware of their absence, so I’m not at all sure.” There was a pause. “I’m sure they’ve simply wandered off for a lark, but if you wouldn’t mind…?”

“I’ll have a look around for them,” you offered immediately, standing with a soft groan. You felt exhaustion down to your very soul, but you knew it was only emotional stress. You felt fine physically.

More than fine, in fact—the blood and meat you’d been devouring was certainly a help.

The matron watched you as you went to the door, her eyes on the rising sun once more. “Oh, and Frisk?” You turned, one hand on the open door. “If you cannot find them, please let me know as soon as possible. We will need someone to be on guard tonight, for the celebrations.”

Your memory took a moment to catch up before you remembered that it was Feast Day. You nodded tersely. “I will.”

“Thank you, Frisk.”

You studied the regal woman with a swift, overwhelming affection, suddenly immensely grateful for her. “No, Mother, thank  _ you _ . For everything. If it wasn’t for you, I would—well, I wouldn’t be me.”

You waited just long enough to see her turn to you with wide, surprised eyes before you slipped out the door and closed it behind you.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: a bad night.
> 
> NEVER BET AGAINST A TUMBLR WHEN _DEATH_ IS ON THE LINE! aaaaaaAAAAHAHAHAAA HAAA HA HA HAAAA HAHAHAHAAA HA HA--
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	30. Feast Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of the feast, and at the foot of the mountain...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME THIS FAR!
> 
> Honestly, I love you guys. It makes me so happy to see you all liking this silly sausage of a horror story.
> 
> This chapter is part one of a three-parter. 
> 
> (Okay possibly four, depending on Things, I'm not going to rule it out)
> 
> Content warning: talk of an abusive relationship
> 
> Enjoy! <3

“Good evening, everyone.”

It was the night of the feast.

Everyone was gathered in dining hall waiting for the prayer to be said over the food the cook had prepared.

“Before we begin, there are a few matters that need discussing.”

Through the clerestory, the Blood Moon leered, spilling its tainted light across the room.

“The first being, as you might imagine, the monsters standing before you.”

And you, Papyrus, and Sans stood in front of every resident of the Home who could attend, with double that amount of eyes trained on your faces.

You were feeling more than a bit sick.

**It will be over sooner rather than later, at least.**

Well that was certainly one way of thinking about it.

**Oh don’t be so dramatic, you silly goose.**

“Now, as I’m sure you’re all aware, this Blood Moon has been especially dire,” the matron said, sweeping her gaze over the entire room. “Though thankfully none of  _ us _ have fallen to it.”

You winced slightly. That wasn’t exactly true, but you were sure the matron would let them know in due time. That morning, you had gone straight out to search for the missing guards after your friend had offered to explain to Papyrus where you would be. 

You’d been keen to have a bit of time to yourself to think over everything that had happened and how you should proceed. So you’d spent the entire morning around the forest edge and the Home’s grounds, combing for any sign of the guards. You hadn’t found a single trace of where they had gone, though, other than a smeared bootprint along the lake’s edge that could belong to anyone.

To make matters worse, you had felt eyes on your back the entire time you had searched, though no matter how quickly you turned around, you’d never seen anyone.

You’d kept your knife close to hand that morning.

“I know many of you will be worried about the week to come, and whether the Home will be prepared for any possible intruders.”

You couldn’t help your glance over at the brothers, who were standing as much in the shadows as they could manage. They both looked incredibly nervous, standing stiff and wary in front of the eyes in the hall. You were a little surprised that they hadn’t simply magicked themselves away yet. You’d been more than a little surprised when the brothers had told you of the matron’s intention as soon as you’d returned from your search.

Papyrus had explained to you over lunch that the matron had come by the room again and put them to work hauling up their necessary furniture and bedclothes from the cellar, since the guards who had been set to do it were now missing. While overseeing the transfer of two cots into your small room, she had told them how she intended to integrate them into the Home’s personnel. 

Somehow. 

She hadn’t elaborated further than telling them to come to the feast that night, apparently, but you had trusted her to have a plan.

“Those of you who have never lived through a Blood Cycle while a resident here, or perhaps those who might be feeling the compulsion a bit stronger this time ‘round.”

Her… _ plan _ , so to speak, was apparently to chuck you and the brothers in front of everyone and simply say, ‘Here there be monsters.’

You were  _ very _ surprised at how incredibly unperturbed most of the residents of the Home had seemed when you and the brothers had stepped through to a full hall and froze in your steps. The matron had obviously been waiting for your arrival, as she immediately turned from the sister she’d been speaking to and stood, waving you forward. You and the brothers had taken a moment to come back to life, watching everyone’s faces with nervousness. But even when you had moved forward so that you were at the head table where the sisters and the matron ate, no one seemed particularly  _ bothered _ .

“I’m here to assure you that the Home has withstood much over the years, and will continue protect all of you from malevolent forces both human and…not.”

You didn’t understand it one bit.

Were the girls not afraid of monsters?

Or did they simply trust the matron so deeply that any endorsement by her was enough to calm their doubts?

You were actually quite proud of everyone in the Home, that night. They were doing a much better job of accepting than even you had, and you were a god’s vessel.

“On that note, I’d like to introduce Sans and Papyrus.”

You were definitely proud of the brothers, for allowing the matron to put them on show in this way. It would have taken a lot of trust for them to even take those first steps into a room filled with humans. Especially without their full disguises on. They were handling the entire situation remarkably well, considering how they had responded to  _ you _ .

“They will be staying here in the Home with us from now on.”

**I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘stage fright.’**

You briefly laughed internally. Did your friend truly believe they were simply frozen under the gaze of so many people? But if that were true, why hadn’t they responded the same in the city, when the crowd had stared with such intensity as to make even you uncomfortable?

**It’s remarkable how much easier it can be to ignore staring eyes when they are not focused on you.**

“They will be assisting Frisk with guard duties. If any of you see anything dangerous, or simply of interest to the wellbeing of the Home, please let one of them know.”

You supposed that were true. Were you not more comfortable standing in front of the Home’s residents now than you had been when you were first re-introduced to everyone as the new guard? That had been a time of nervous butterflies and sweaty palms, and you had  _ known _ the girls looking up at you. You had no idea why the feeling of being watched was so uncomfortable as to be almost disturbing. It seemed silly, on introspect. 

**Perhaps it isn’t so silly, after all. Perhaps humans feel so instinctively uneasy because they know, on a subconscious level, what may be watching.**

A slither of dread uncoiled in your stomach and reared its head, ready to strike your heart.

Without asking, you knew what your friend was referring to.

You didn’t want to look, but you had to.

You could feel  _ it _ looking at  _ you _ .

Your eyes flicked over and met the moon through the high window for only a brief second, but it was enough to make goosebumps ripple down your arms. It was watching you fervently, as it always seemed to be. It never seemed to look elsewhere anymore. 

You felt as though you might never escape its gaze.

“—feel welcome in the Home,” you distantly heard the matron speaking, and you realised that you had missed part of her speech. “Thank you, Frisk, Sans, Papyrus, you may be seated now.”

You and the brothers hurried to sit at the end of the table the matron had offhandedly indicated. You were pressed up against a girl on your left as the brothers folded themselves to fit on the bench, though it was a tight fit. You only got a glance around the girls’ faces at the table before it was time for the prayer. You automatically bowed your head, feeling more than a bit silly.

**Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t feel jealous if you pretend to love another.**

You had to gnaw at your top lip to keep yourself from smiling. You could feel Papyrus fidgeting beside you, and you opened your eyes slightly to peek over at him, feeling like a child again, distracted by any movement in church. Instead of catching Papyrus and Sans looking confused at the prayer, though, you spotted them watching Lilli, William, and Iris sliding into place on the opposite side of the table.

You tensed up immediately, your clasped hands straining against each other until your knuckles ached.

Why were they sitting  _ here _ , of all places?

**You know why.**

You dropped all pretence of following the prayer, openly watching William and Lilli as they settled across from you. They were intently  _ not _ looking your way, though, so you turned to Iris instead, who just glanced between the five of you before smiling shyly. Her eyes were somewhat nervous as she looked at Papyrus and Sans, but when you smiled back at her, she relaxed visibly.

You had to look away soon after, though, before your eyes naturally turned to Lilli. You didn’t know why she would have chosen to come sit next to you after what had happened between you that morning, but you didn’t like it. You’d thought that William at least would have stopped her, but you supposed he’d never been the most strong-willed person, where Lilli most certainly was.

You hoped she wasn’t looking to cause a scene. Lilli could sometimes get a little… _ dramatic _ …when she felt strongly about something. You wondered if she could somehow tell your feelings for the brothers.

**If you were as close as you say, then I’d bet yes.**

Your eyes snapped over to Lilli’s face in a heartbeat at your friend's words, and you found that she had been looking at you. You unintentionally locked eyes, but it was entirely on purpose that your gazes remained together. A tiny, barely noticeable redness crept along the edges of her ears, the way it always had when she was embarrassed.

She looked away, and you smiled softly before dropping it from your face the second you realised what you were doing.

No, you didn’t think she had been intending anything of the sort when she chose this table. Perhaps she was merely feeling the same draw between you that you felt.

It seemed old habits had survived even through years of distance and neglect.

You felt a skeletal hand brush against yours under the table, and you turned to look up at Papyrus with a smile as you threaded your fingers together without a thought. He gave you a small, questioning smile in return, and your heart suddenly stuttered. You looked beyond him to Sans nervously. Was he asking you about Lilli?

You had taken some of your regrettably brief lunch break with the brothers to explain your disappearance and subsequent absence, and all that had happened. You’d told them that you did, in fact, know Lilli from a long time ago, and had started explaining that it was in a romantic sense when you’d stopped, your eyes on Sans. 

He had been undeniably distant with you the entire time you’d been back, not even wanting to look at you, much less speak to you. You’d tried to include him, but when your gentle encouragement was met with stony silence, Papyrus had only locked hands with you and given a tiny shake of his head, his smile sad. With some help from your friend, you’d taken that to mean that Sans still needed time. And so you’d simply moved on to talking about something else, respecting his need to have space and silence. 

But when you’d started explaining your past relationship with Lilli, his eyes had snapped over to yours in an instant, his pupils drawing down to tiny pinpricks. You’d stopped with your mouth still forming the words, your breath slowly escaping soundlessly from between parted lips. You’d had no idea why he’d responded so suddenly, but you had the feeling it was better to leave off the more detailed explanation of your relationship until later.

At least until you knew more about why he felt so drastically different about the situation between the three of you than either you or Papyrus did.

**Papyrus just wants to know that you’re okay. He can tell how nervous you are.**

You looked back to Papyrus with wonder. How did he always seem to know what you were feeling so clearly?

**He is more acquainted with soul-bonds and what is possible with them than you, my lamb.**

Did that mean that you could eventually know what  _ he _ was feeling, too?

**Eventually? Yes, of course.**

You were about to ask how that would be possible when the prayers finished and everyone raised their heads once more. You watched them immediately set on the food with enthusiasm, completely ignoring you and the brothers and choosing to talk amongst themselves instead.

You were caught staring, apparently, as you heard a soft giggle before Iris murmured, “You look surprised, Frisk.”

You gave the pale, shy girl a small smile. “I suppose I didn’t exactly expect to be ignored.”

“It’s not exactly news, you know. Monsters.”

You blinked, taking your time to process Iris’s words as she, Lilli, and William all began loading their plates with food as well. You weren’t hungry at the moment. At least not for fish or potatoes. You hadn’t planned on eating anything at the feast, even though you had spent the second half of your afternoon slaving in the kitchens. 

You’d been on another quick patrol and hunt with the brothers when you’d heard the cook shouting at you from the kitchen door, and you’d looked up to see her waving furiously at you. You’d jogged over after a moment’s hesitation to tell the brothers not to wait up for you, to find that she was in desperate need of help to get everything done. You’d agreed, meaning only to help for an hour or so, but you’d been roped into the full afternoon without so much as a rest.

It was funny—for all that she told you off for being horrible at cooking, the cook certainly seemed to enjoy keeping you around in the kitchen.

You supposed you  _ were _ fairly handy with a knife.

“We’ve all seen them around, you know,” Iris was saying, eating daintily. “It would be hard not to, to be…perfectly honest.”

Heat crept up your neck. Somehow, you felt chastised, though Iris wasn’t even looking your way anymore, and she certainly hadn’t spoken in such a manner. You supposed you hadn’t exactly been stealthy as you patrolled with the brothers. Or shouted at them. Or…oh, dear God, had everyone  _ heard _ you with them last night, as well?

**Oh, dear. I suppose it’s a good thing you aren’t a bashful person, eh?**

Your eyes flickered between Iris and Lilli, and you found Lilli’s eyes looking to you knowingly. You clenched Papyrus’s hand suddenly, and he turned to  you with a worried expression. Before he could say anything, though, you heard Sans snort on the other side of him, and your entire body tensed immediately. You didn’t like the sound of that, one bit.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence at the table as everyone turned to Sans with nervous eyes. You didn’t blame them. Even if the brothers were behaving like humans at the moment, that certainly didn’t stop them from giving off an air of monstrousness.

You were surprised to realise that you had simply gotten used to it.

“So,” Sans said finally, his mocking tone only adding to the tension. “Let me make sure I have this correct. Everyone here in the Home has seen my brother and me with Frisk, and not a single one of you has thought to ask her if she’s okay. Despite the fact that we might have been threatening her, or using her for our own purposes.”

Oh, you could have killed Sans just then. 

You gripped Papyrus’s hand even tighter, your eyes caught on the sharp, focused looks that Lilli and William were giving the brothers. Iris looked somewhat embarrassed, though she still said,

“Not… _ everyone _ . A lot of us have. And we didn’t say anything because, well…we know that Frisk can handle herself.” She was obviously fighting to keep her eyes on Sans, though her eyelashes fluttered with the effort. You could tell she wanted to look anywhere else. “The matron wouldn’t have asked her to protect us from the likes of you if she couldn’t do it.”

You turned your eyes to the ceiling, tracing the delicate carvings set in stone there, as you felt everyone watching you. You didn’t really know what to say. It was the truth, of course. The matron  _ had _ appointed you to watch for anything out of the ordinary—anything that the guards might shy away from. She’d known your proclivities from the beginning, and it was only now that you realised that she must have known of your friend from the start as well. 

It was no wonder she trusted you, of all people, to help guard the Home.

**You’re selling yourself short. You are entirely capable, even without me. It just so happens that we make quite a team.**

“Frisk?” came Papyrus’s soft voice, drawing your gaze back to his face. You felt his soft red eyes searching yours for the truth. “Is…w-were you t-truly meant to guard everyone a-against us?”

Your gaze flicked over to Iris, who was nervously looking between the three of you, gnawing on her lip. You sighed and nodded. “Not just you. I  _ am _ mostly a guard against unscrupulous humans, but I was also set to guard against…anything unusual I might find.”

There was another brief silence before it was broken Sans’s bitter voice.

“Of course. Meddling old woman.”

Your eyes snapped to Sans beyond Papyrus, sudden anger spiking through you. “ _ Don’t _ call her that.”

Sans didn’t even bother to look at you. He just snorted again and stood from the table, turning away from you and leaving without a word. Papyrus called after him, but he made no indication that he’d even heard him. Your eyebrows drew together with concern, your anger trickling away. You made to follow him, but stopped when Papyrus put a hand to your shoulder, smiling sadly.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll follow him. Will…will you be…okay?” His eyes flitted over to Lilli and William for a second before returning to yours, his brows raised. You just nodded, trying out a smile for him. He just watched you for another moment before nodding and dropping his head down to press his teeth against your cheek in a sweet kiss. 

Your eyes closed as you leaned into it automatically, your soul singing happily in your chest. Before it could reach out to Papyrus too eagerly, though, he stood and followed Sans out of the dining hall. You watched him go, smiling at his lanky, hunched stride. He still moved as a monster would as it crept up on you in the night.

**He** **_has_ ** **crept up on you in the night.**

You almost laughed. That was true enough, though you weren’t exactly smiling about it then.

You wondered if it was you or them who had changed, to cause your heart such happiness to be around them. 

**Both, I would say.**

You supposed so.

You wondered when exactly that had happened. And how. 

“And  _ that’s _ the other reason we never said anything,” Iris said, her high voice quietly amused. You looked back over at her with surprise. She just smiled shyly.

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest and you very deliberately did not look Lilli’s way. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh,  _ Frisk _ ,” Lilli sighed with exasperation, her fork clattering to her plate. You couldn’t help but turn to see her roll her eyes at you. “Just stop. You don’t have to pretend for my sake.”

You frowned at Lilli as you heard your friend chuckle to themself. “I’m not pretending because of  _ you _ , Lilli. And anyway, I’m not pretending at all.”

“Then you admit to your feelings?”

“I fail to see how it’s any of your business!” you snapped automatically, immediately regretting losing your temper when her face fell. Lilli wasn’t Zachary—she wasn’t trying to catch you in a trap or use your feelings against you. You needed to remember that they were separate people, and hadn’t been united against you all those years ago. Lilli had been a victim of Zach’s jealousy and manipulation just as much as you had.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a brief, incredibly tense moment of silence where the three of them simply ate their food. “I…I’ve had to deal with Zachary’s incessant jealousy ever since he—he saw me with—”

“It’s okay,” Lilli said, glancing over at William, who nodded, his eyes full of regret. “I understand perfectly. We haven’t had the easiest time with him, ourselves.” She paused, her eyes going distant as though she was remembering something, before she snapped back to the present and smiled weakly at you. “Just so it’s clear, though—I fully support the three of you. Better gentlemanly monsters than a monstrous gentleman, hey?” She glanced over at William again. “No offence intended, Will.”

Your eyebrows rose slowly at the warmth that bloomed at William’s temples and the bridge of his nose. What could he possibly be embarrassed about by that?

**What indeed?**

You had no idea. You were looking between the two of them, trying to puzzle it out when William mumbled,

“It’s a’right.”

“Wait, no,” you said. “What is it? Why would you be offended by her calling Zach monstrous?”

“No reason, Frisk,” William said hurriedly, holding out a hand. “You know how she gets when she think she—” 

“William, stop being so silly, Frisk won’t care that you have feelings for—”

“Chrissake, woman,  _ hush _ !” 

But your mind was already whirling with the information that William apparently had feelings for Zachary, and you suddenly wished you had Papyrus’s hand to hold. You wondered if your friend had already guessed.

**It was fairly obvious, dear. You may not pay much attention to the lad when the lass is around, but I do. His face is incredibly easy to read.**

You suddenly remembered the look William had had when commenting upon how Zachary was ‘still keeping both of you from each other.’ He’d looked so cruel, so deeply angry at something, but you hadn’t understood why. You’d just assumed he’d meant to hurt you.

Could that have been because William himself was—

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much to talk about it. It’s not as if anyone here is going to judge you for—”

“They might not, Lilli, but cor, didja even  _ think _ what coul’ ‘appen if it gets back to my gaffer?” William hissed, almost too quiet for you to properly hear. He was clearly beyond upset; he only spoke with such a thick northern accent when he was spitting mad. “It’s his  _ da _ !”

You saw Lilli open her mouth, obviously ready to continue arguing her point, when you cut her off with, “Lilli, stop. Now is not the time for this. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, don’t try to force him.”

Lilli drew back with a huff. “Fine. But if anyone would understand how difficult it is to love that man, it would be us. I simply thought he would appreciate the support.”

You looked between the two of them, from Lilli’s annoyed pout to William’s nervous, angry stare. Iris didn’t even seem to be paying attention to the conversation anymore, but you knew better. The girls in the Home were particularly good at the skill of listening while appearing not to be, so you weren’t fooled in the slightest. She would be just as interested as you were.

However, you weren’t lying. It wasn’t exactly smart to be talking of something that, at best, could get William sacked from his position.

“I understand that you want to help,” you began, trying to speak diplomatically, “but some things are best left alone. At least while in public. Not everyone is happy to share their feelings with the world.”

Lilli suddenly looked chastised, and William slumped slightly with relief, giving you a grateful nod.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Will,” Lilli said, her ears going red again. “I just—I know how  _ hard  _ it is, loving someone and feeling like you’re all alone in the world because of it.” She peered over at you for a brief moment before looking away again. Your heart gave a hard thump at that, but surprisingly it calmed right down. “I just didn’t want you to go through what I have.”

“Don’t you understand, though?” William asked, looking uncomfortable as he looked between you and Lilli. “That’s  _ exactly _ why I don’t want to think about it.” He sighed roughly, dragging a hand across his face and up through his hair. “Lil, I’m not blind. I’m not stupid. I know who— _ what _ —Zachary is. I may feel…like I do…for him, but I would never be able to ignore what he’s done to you. To both of you.”

Your attention focused sharply at William’s words, especially when you saw the expression of shame on Lilli’s face. “What does Zachary lying to Lilli and me have to do with how you feel about him? Surely, you could understand a man acting out of jealousy.”

**You don’t believe that.**

No, you didn’t, but something about how he’d spoken suggested there was more to it than just the rift Zachary had caused between you and Lilli. Something worse than separation.

A part of you had always known what Zachary was capable of, but you’d always hoped he would never sink that low.

William was giving you a look that told you that he knew exactly what you were doing. Instead of answering, though, he simply looked to Lilli and said, “Lilli?”

You looked over to Lilli, but she wouldn’t look back. She had her arms crossed loosely under her breasts, her fingers fiddling with the creases in her schoolmistress’s dress. “It’s not as though that would ever happen to  _ you _ , though, William.”

“That’s  _ not _ the  _ point _ , and you—”

“What did he do.”

Lilli’s eyes sprang up to yours at your stern words, not bothering to even form them into a question. You already knew what she was going to say, but you wanted her to tell you herself. You weren’t completely unobservant or simple; you could follow the hints to their logical conclusion.

“Frisk, you don’t need to worry about it; it won’t happen anymore now that I’m here,” Lilli said, her voice tiny and weak.

“Are y’ _ mad _ , Lil?” William cried. You could see a few girls look down the table, from the corner of your eye. You didn’t care. They would have seen worse before. “You think coming here is going to fix everything? You think he’s going to stop just because you’re behind these walls? He’s completely mad now, Lil. He  _ locked you away _ . He  _ hurt you _ . You heard what he said about Frisk. Do you really think he’s going to let his  _ wife _ leave him, too?”

Lilli was saying something back to William, but you were no longer listening. Static was slowly creeping up on the edges of your mind, enveloping your senses. You had tensed hard enough to take the breath from your lungs at William’s words.

Lilli and Zachary had…

Gotten married?

**Is that such a surprise?**

They weren’t meant to be together, though.

She didn’t belong with a horrible man like him.

**Who does she belong with, then? You?**

No.

But…

Not him.

Anyone but him.

**I’m not sure that’s up to you, sweetheart.**

You  _ knew _ that. But why would she have done it? What did she see in him that suggested he would make a good husband?

You desperately needed to know.

Because you certainly couldn’t see it with your own two eyes.

Especially now that you knew that he’d been hurting her in some way, probably for years.

_ Locking her away _ ?

**Perhaps it would be better to simply calm down and ask?**

“Why?” you choked out suddenly, cutting William’s response to Lilli off mid-sentence. When you managed to focus again on their confused faces, you repeated yourself, your voice flat. “Why did you marry him?”

Lilli looked ashamed again, but she didn’t look away this time. “Oh, Frisk. I—I loved him. I still do. I…when you left to go to hospital, I took solace in Zachary. I thought I could trust him. He told me I could, and even though he had treated you abominably, I had no reason to believe I couldn’t. I thought that he simply had no idea how to cope with the idea of losing you. I thought I could help him understand that you wouldn’t be gone forever. So I stayed with him, thinking he would eventually change back into the happy man we’d been with.

“Of course, I know now how silly I was. Because Zachary never  _ was  _ that happy man. He never  _ was _ the person we fell in love with. Who he really was—and always will be—was hiding just underneath the surface, ready to emerge once his mask had worn down.”

A tremor ran through her, and William put an arm around her shoulders. You watched, your emotions pressing hard against your chest.

“I sometimes hate myself now for how weak I was. For how easily I convinced myself of how I needed him. How he needed me. But I know the truth now. He never loved me. God in heaven, I don’t know if he  _ is  _ capable of love.” She paused again, before giving William a sad smile. “Sorry, Will.”

“Don’t be daft, Lil. No need t’apologise,” William muttered, shaking his head with an affectionate smile in return.

“I’d like to apologise to you, too, though, Frisk,” Lilli said, and you found yourself clenching the knees of your trousers even harder. “I never meant for you to feel like we’d abandoned you. I never thought Zachary would do something so despicable as keep our letters from you. Even if he  _ was _ jealous, I never thought him capable of it. I should have known.”

You just nodded, suddenly feeling suffocated by the heat in the dining hall, and the stares from everyone around you. You could still feel the moon watching you, and your friend was wrapped tightly enough around your soul to feel as though you were closed in a cage.

You stood before you could stop yourself, knocking your knees and shins against the table in your haste to remove yourself. You could faintly hear William and Lilli asking you what was wrong, but the only thing you managed to say was,

“I need—I need air—I have to—go—”

Ignoring the sound of William, Lilli and Iris calling after you, you left the dining hall, your hands shaking terribly. You fought to keep your breath under control, though you could feel it rattling in your chest. You couldn’t panic right now, though. You were one of the only people in the Home who could protect everyone. You were supposed to be on guard duty.

You had to stay calm. 

You had to  _ stay calm _ . 

You had to—to—

**You have to forget about Zachary. You have to forget about all of them. You have to** **_not leave the Home_ ** **. They’re not worth the risk.**

You knew you shouldn’t. You were trying to stop yourself, but you couldn’t seem to manage it. You were already out of the Home through the kitchen’s entrance, completely focused on winding around the Home to where the path up the mountain waited for you. The moonlight beat down against every piece of exposed skin on your body, its tendril-like fingers curling around your neck in an invisible collar. You could feel your friend flinching away from the touch of the moonlight, hiding deep inside you.

**Frisk, this is a bad idea. Please, go back. I don’t want to have to take over just to keep you out of harm’s way, but I will if I have to.**

You would be fine. You just needed some air. You just needed  _ to run _ —your feet slammed hard into the wet earth, your legs stretching happily into the sprint— _ to hunt _ —there, in front of you, a deer running from you as though its life depended on it—to feel your teeth sinking into living flesh as its soul drained into yours, giving in to the natural death that came for everyone, that was coming for you—

You skidded and stumbled to a halt when you broke through a low-hanging branch and thick, ropey spider webs wrapped over your face. You tore at them with disgust, grateful you still had oil in your hair to stop them from sticking too horribly. When you finally cleared them from your eyes and slung them away forcefully, you gaped at the sight in front of you.

Bodies.

There were bodies everywhere.

Strung up in bloody sacs lolling lazily in the wind as drops fell to the earth, hanging from makeshift nooses made of the same thick webbing attached to the trees, pieces scattered across the forest floor like a child’s spilled candy jar. Your sight was filled with gore, your eyes flitting from viscera to blood-stained trees to a man’s face caught in the last moments of agony, his eyes wide and empty, his mouth stretched in a silent scream.

You felt your stomach revolt, but you managed to keep the vomit down. It was difficult, with the putrid smell of spilled human guts mixing with the sweet cloying scent of warm flowers, but you  _ managed _ .

Your heart skipped a beat, though, when you finally caught sight of two men who had obviously met a different fate than the others. Instead of torn apart or hanged, they had been speared in a manner only conceived by a particularly cruel torturer. One man had been speared directly through the middle of his body, starting from his pelvis, so that the tip emerged from his shoulder. The other had been pierced through the spine horizontally, so that his silhouette was that of a cross on the forest floor.

Perhaps cruellest of all, they seemed to still be alive, if the broken cries and groans sounding through the clearing were not simply an echo of the spirits now haunting the forest.

You soon realised that you recognised the uniforms they wore.

It was the missing guards.

And standing over them were Sans and Papyrus, looking just as shocked as you.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: someone is a naughty boy.
> 
>  
> 
> BLOGGING ON TUMBLR MAKES YOUR TEETH TURN GREY
> 
> GREEDY TO BLOG ALL DAY
> 
> BLOGGING ON TUMBLR MAKE YOUR TEETH TURN GREY
> 
> TUMBLR MAKE YOUR TEETH GO GREY?
> 
> JUST READ SOME REDDIT, AND IT’LL GO AWAY
> 
> HOW MUCH REDDIT HAVE YOU READ TODAY
> 
> TOO MUCH REDDIT MAKE YOUR TEETH TURN GREY
> 
> DOO-DOO DOO DOO-DOO
> 
> [ tellcosy.tumblr.com](http://tellcosy.tumblr.com) (MIGHT BE 18+ SOMETIMES WE JUST DON'T KNOW WE JUST DON'T KNOW)


	31. Feast Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...they will tear Frisk to pieces and she'll bleed like a fountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh hehhhh
> 
> heh
> 
> so it's been three months sorry
> 
> BUt I'M BETTER NOW
> 
> And here's a chapter WAHEY
> 
> No specific warnings, but some gore.
> 
> <3

“Frisk—it—this wasn’t—”

“We didn’t kill them.”

You nodded absently at Papyrus and Sans, taking a few steps closer. “I know. Don’t worry.”

**It’s not as though we would judge them for it even if they had, considering some of the things** **_we’ve_ ** **done to—**

You shushed your friend, just in case they were speaking to both you and Papyrus. You didn’t know if you were ready for Papyrus to know some of the more horrific things you’d done when you were younger. It seemed ridiculous to hide something like that away from a monster, but you still felt the urge to.

Thankfully, even if they were speaking to Papyrus as well, it didn’t seem as though he was concerned by it. He was hurriedly wiping away the blood from his hands onto the grass before he stood and loped over to you, his face twisted with concern. “Frisk, what are you doing out here? Did something happen with your—with Lilli?”

You managed a tiny smile for Papyrus’s thoughtfulness, though your heart was still racing at the thought of what had happened to Lilli. Somehow, even though you knew you had no control over Zachary’s actions, it still felt as though it was partly your fault. You felt as though you should have been able to keep yourself together long enough back then, at least until Lilli could find someone else who wouldn’t hurt her. 

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. You would think more on it later, if you were still feeling that way.

First, there was the matter of the injured men.

“Don’t worry about that, Papyrus. What happened out here? And did you two chase Muffet away?”

“They were already gone by the time we found this,” Sans said, his voice oddly flat. He still wasn’t looking at you, but he was at least facing your direction. Your eyes were drawn back to the sobbing men, but you looked away again almost immediately. It was a grisly sight, and the smell brought you back to a darker time.

“What do you mean ‘they’?”

“Undyne did this,” Papyrus said, his voice annoyed but resolute as he gestured to the guards. You didn’t look again—just nodded.

“I take it you’ve already checked to see if the spears can be removed?” you asked quietly, a hard lump forming in the pit of your stomach. You already knew what you were going to have to do, but you didn’t want to think about it too closely.

Papyrus looked uncomfortable. “We tried, even though we’ve seen Undyne do this before. She barbs her spears so there’s no clean way to remove them.”

You nodded again, your emotions going numb as your friend’s shadows wriggled around your soul tighter. They knew how hard it was for you to do this, but there was no better way to help the men now. It would be cruel to let them simply bleed out over time, or go into shock. The Home had a hospital, but it was only equipped for minor surgeries at most. The closest hospital that could handle this level was in the city. By the time you got them there, they would have died anyway, in much more pain than they were in now.

No.

Better instead to give a soft ending to such a hard death.

“Will you two do me a favour?” you asked, your voice hollow even to your own ears as you approached the two dying men. You didn’t look to see if the brothers were paying attention before continuing with, “Please, cut down what bodies you can, and look for any identification on them there might be. I will take care of these two.”

A large hand on your chest stopped you dead. You looked up to see Sans staring down at you, his eyes hard and shifting, as though he was searching you desperately for something. His cheekbone had a smear of blood on it, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out to wipe it from him.

He stepped away before you could touch him.

Your hand, still reaching for him, fell.

**What a stubborn fool.**

“What are you going to do?” Sans asked, though you could barely hear his quiet rumbles over the men’s groans.

You looked back at Sans for a few tense moments before saying, “My friend and I can give a better death than this.”

Sans’s eyes narrowed before he shook his head. “No. There’s no need for you to do something like that. To—to be a—”

“Murderer?” you offered, speaking just as soft as him, though the hollowness was receding. He looked ashamed, and you smiled, though it was somewhat bitter. “I’m sorry to say, but it’s a bit late for that.”

You didn’t wait to see Sans’s reaction before you stepped up to the men, holding your hand up to the nearest—the one speared through vertically—and holding it to his chest. You felt a hand fall heavy on your shoulder, and Sans said,

“Frisk, please. Just—put them to sleep, if you can. We will do the rest.”

You were already sinking far down into the shadows in your mind, but you still managed to nod.  You ignored the way the man cried out and flinched at your touch when you shifted your hand to his forehead, blood dribbling from his lips as he shook with the shock setting in. You let your friend slip down through your hand, pressing gently against your skin in a silent question. You took a deep breath and mentally nodded, letting them know you were ready.

**It won’t take long, sweetheart.**

You grit your teeth as your friend’s shadows crawled from beneath your skin, bubbling out of your pores and pooling onto the man’s face. You looked directly into the man’s wide, shocked eyes as the pool of your friend’s shadows wriggled through his nose and mouth and disappeared after a second. You struggled to keep calm as you watched the man thrashing and screaming against your friend’s control, his mouth stretched wide with pain.

It only took another moment before they had won, though, and the man blinked the blood from his eyes once before slumping forward as far as he could on the spear.

**One down. One to go.**

You waited for the shadow to return to you before moving on to the next man and doing the same, swallowing down your gorge at the smell wafting from his spilled guts. There would be time to vomit later, if you still needed to.

The second man fought your friend’s control for much longer, sending sharp spikes of distress through you. Still, you held on, blinking away the tightness at the back of your eyes. And then he was also limp, his body falling into a neat u-shape, his fingers brushing the bloodied leaves on the forest floor.

**It is done now, love.**

You once again waited for the shadows to return before you stepped away, turning directly into Papyrus’s arms waiting for you. You froze, not expecting to be touched, your mind flinching away from it so soon after touching the shadows. But you forced yourself to remain within the circle of his arms, your face pressed against the warmth at his chest. You listened to the fluttering of his heart—his  _ soul _ —and shivered with disgust.

Eventually, though, you had to step away.

You gave both Papyrus and Sans a quick look and nod before retreating over to the closest body and taking out your knife. You began to hack at the thick, sticky web ropes, careful to breathe through barely parted lips instead of your nose. You did not look into the body’s gaping eyes, wondering who would be missing them. You did not listen to the crunching, wet sounds behind you. You did not peek back over your shoulder to see Papyrus and Sans with their teeth sunk deep into the mens’ necks, blood gushing into their mouths and spilling onto their clothes.

You  _ didn’t _ .

You waited until the tearing, ripping, and grunting had stopped behind you before you slashed at the last thread of webbing and let the body fall to the ground. You turned to see that the brothers had laid the guards’ bodies side-by-side, having snapped the spears from them as best they could. You swallowed hard, your hand gripping your knife tight enough to bite into your palm.

“Frisk, are you okay?” Papyrus asked, blood staining his mouth. You nodded, your eyes caught on the sight. You turned back to the body without a word and slashed at the webbing around his torso to root in his pockets, looking for identification. There was nothing, dammit. There would be no way for you to let the man’s family—if he had any—know that he had died up on this godforsaken mountain.

**Frisk, Papyrus is very worried.**

You knew that. What did your friend want from you? Did they want you to pretend to be okay with a copse littered with bodies and viscera? You could try, if they needed that from you. You could ignore the painful stab of guilt in your heart when you moved on to the next body, sawing through the webbed noose. 

These people were dead because of you. 

But you could ignore that and pretend to be alright with this.

You were good at pretending.

**They are** **_not_ ** **dead because of y—**

They were dead because of you.

Because you had lost yourself in the pull of the moon, in your attraction to Sans and Papyrus, in your goddamned curiosity. You hadn’t been strong enough to resist, to stay clear-headed and calm and capable. You had let everyone down. You could have stopped this from happening to all these innocent people—to the guards you had known for years—but you hadn’t. You’d chosen instead to sympathise with the enemy—to  _ bed them _ —

**Sans and Papyrus are not your enemy. And you know that. What is this really about?**

It was about this. This inability of yours to simply perform your duty without betraying everyone. To  _ function _ as you should, as any normal human should—

**Ah, this is about Lilli.**

No!

It wasn’t entirely about Lilli.

It was about you being responsible for everyone in the Home now. It was about how scared you were that you would fail them, too, just as you’d failed these people. It was about being terrified to find the girls, the sisters—Lilli and Iris—the  _ matron _ —dead, just like this. Because you couldn’t control yourself.

**They won’t die like this. But you haven’t failed** **_anybody_ ** **, Frisk. These people were victims of the monsters responsible. Not your affliction.**

You let out a soft  _ oomph _ as you caught another body, though it was only half of a person this time. You ignored the blood spilling on your legs as you hauled them over to the other bodies already resting together. The brothers had obviously taken your silence rightfully to mean you needed space, and had simply moved on to cutting down the other bodies as well. You looked for identification on the body after laying it down, biting the inside of your cheek as you took in the state of the woman. The only thing you could find was a locket around the bruised and swollen neck, though.

You clenched it in your fist as you finally allowed yourself to look in the woman’s eyes, but flinched when you saw that one of the sockets was empty. The other, a shockingly vibrant blue tempered by the cloudy white film over it, sent a twinge of familiarity through you that was too vague to place.

You had a feeling you’d seen that eye before. Somewhere…recently…?

They almost looked like—

“Ahh, such a  _ shame _ , this.”

You leapt to your feet, whirling around at the sound of the man’s voice, silken and confident and dreadfully familiar. Even before you caught sight of him, you knew it was Mr. Coppola who was standing so close— _ too close _ .

You immediately fell away from the man, but stumbled over the dead woman’s mangled leg, nearly falling in your haste. He merely smiled at your reaction, one of his eyes strangely devoid of expression or warmth. It took you a few moments to realise that it was the same shade as the dead woman’s.

**Go to Sans and Papyrus.**

You immediately spun to obey, but froze when you saw that behind Sans loomed an impossibly tall suit of armour, its severe, pointed face turned directly towards you. Fingers of panic crawled up your spine when you also saw that above Papyrus’s head, in the trees, creeped the enormous spider woman, Muffet.

It was an ambush.

“ _ Such _ a pity,” came Mr. Coppola’s voice from behind you, and you watched him stroll around you with his hands in his white trouser pockets. He was wearing another leisure suit, though it wasn’t quite as pressed as the last had been. Especially since there were streaks of blood across it. 

He stopped at the head of the dead woman, nudging her cheek with the toe of his boot. He gave you a charming smirk, and you felt your gorge rise. Behind him, you could see the brothers realising the other monsters had come with the man. They looked ready to kill, their eyes shining bright enough to cut through the darkness. “It would have been lovely to finally have a complete body, but oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. How was I to know she would be blind in one eye?”

**We have to run. This is a very bad situation.**

“Leave now,” Sans growled, his voice dark and deep and loud as he looked between the three monsters, the unspoken threat clear in his eyes. Your human heart quailed at the unearthly reverberance,  but your friend crushed their shadows around you, numbing the fear. You could feel them leave briefly after that, and you saw with half an eye that they were  talking to Papyrus.

“Oh, I don’t think we will,” Muffet cooed, twisting with delight as she hung suspended from her webbing. Her spider’s legs twitched excitedly, and thick ropes of saliva fell from her gaping, upside-down smile. The human half of her was fully naked, and you could see streaks of gore across her purpled flesh. “It’s such a lovely night for a party, don’t you think?”

Your heart was racing with terror, your skin immediately clammy with the instinct to run. Your eyes rolled from the enemies that surrounded you to the brothers, their faces curling into monstrous expressions filled with hate. They were angrier than you had ever seen. You were faint with fear, and you had to reach up to wrap your hand around your pendants to ground yourself.

**Frisk, listen to me.**

“Y-you… _ need to leave now _ ,” Papyrus ground out in a whispery, paper-thin growl that belied the effort he was putting into not attacking the other monsters. His bones began to click and clatter as his hands clenched tight, his eyes on Muffet. His pupils were pulsing rapidly, the light emanating deep within his sockets. A swirl of blue magic was gathering at his chest, just as Sans’s magic began to form beside him. They seemed to be deeply in sync with one another as they shifted subtly, their backs now together so that they faced out towards their enemies.

Muffet only giggled and clicked her teeth.

Mr. Coppola shook his head and gave a laughing, mocking sigh, his hands shoved deeper into his pockets as he straightened his shoulders once more.

The suit of armour was completely, deathly silent.

It had never once looked away from you.

And that scared you even beyond the sight of Muffet.

**Do you remember how I said that holding you back doesn’t take any effort?**

You—you could remember. But only just. You could barely hear your friend’s voice beyond the screaming panic slamming through you. It was taking a phenomenal effort from you to not leave the brothers alone to fend for themselves. Your fingers were trembling uncontrollably as you slowly, slowly, slowly slid your hand down to your pocket and palmed your knife.

You were not going to die without a fight.

“Oh, sweet Papyrus,” Mr. Coppola simpered, shuffling towards the brothers with a gentle forward sway to his hips, his insincere smile stretching his face unnaturally. “In all that time alone, you never learned just  _ how _ weak you are. Do you honestly think you can stand toe-to-toe with the likes of  _ us _ ?”

You were bristling with anger even through your heightened panic, but you didn’t have time to dwell, as your friend was speaking low and fast in your mind.

**Well, now I’m going to do something that** **_does_ ** **take a bit of effort.**

Papyrus’s eyes were sharp— _deadly sharp_ —as they bore into Mr. Coppola’s face with an intensity you’d rarely seen in him. His chest was glowing bright now, the light mixing with Sans’s red magical aura. His mouth was parted with the snarl twisting his face. He looked like a wolf about to tear into his prey. “F-Frisk—g-geeeeet _b-b-baaack to the Hhhhhhoooome_ —”

**When I say run…**

“F-F-F-F-Friiiisk!” Muffet mocked, her many legs rubbing the bark from the trees as she laughed, high and loud and cruel. “Oh, yes, I agree! Please run, little girl. I’d love to have another chase! The last one was  _ so _ lovely.” Muffet licked her lips as she looked you up and down, her smile and eyes widening even further. “And I’m still feeling quite… _ hungry _ .”

You realised you’d unconsciously backed away from the group of monsters when you fell against a tree and a jutting branch dug into your spine. Hard, rolling shudders made your teeth clack loudly as your stomach threatened to empty itself again. Everybody’s eyes were on you now, and you suddenly knew what the brothers must have felt, standing in front of the entire Home that night. A panicked laugh bubbled up your throat, but you swallowed it back down.

“Muffet, dear, please don’t scare her any more than necessary. She might fall over dead with fright, and then whose parts will I use?” Mr. Coppola asked conversationally, lifting his hand palm-up as he smiled at you. 

“Lord knows  _ this  _ one—” as he spoke, he reached his fingers into his eye socket and plucked the vacant-looking eye from it without warning, regarding it with an amused shake of his head, “—was useless after all.”

You really  _ were  _ going to vomit, now.

“Oh well,” Mr. Coppola said, chucking the eye over his shoulder and winking the empty socket at you as Muffet giggled. “At least I still have yours, darling. They really  _ are _ beautiful, you know.”

Just as he made a move to walk towards you again, though, a deep and gravelly voice rumbled up from the heavy air around you.

“She…belongs…to the  _ Master _ .”

Mr. Coppola stopped dead, his good eye swivelling around to face the source of the voice—the suit of armour. His smile faltered. Even Muffet looked uncomfortable.

There was dead silence in the small copse for a second before Sans’s voice burst from him, clipped and harsh. He hardly sounded human anymore.

“ **_Never_ ** .”

He began to shudder, his hands clenched hard enough to scrape together. He looked as though he was struggling to hold himself back from something, though you couldn’t know what. You gripped your knife hard enough to hurt, still inching away from the scene. You were poised and ready to run at any second, just waiting for your friend’s word.

You had a feeling that the brothers would be fine without you.

“She will  _ never— _ **_NEVER_ ** _ — _ belong to that beast!”

As if his words were a sledgehammer breaking through the thin wall of tension, the entire clearing exploded into action, nearly stopping your heart with fright. Muffet slammed to the ground in a spray of leaves and webbing as Mr. Coppola spun back towards you, advancing as you backed away quickly, stumbling over fallen branches. Behind him, the suit of armour conjured a spear with a lift of its hand and hurled it straight through the brothers, effectively pinning them together. Your heart screamed with sorrow for a moment before you realised that their thrashing and cries weren’t of pain, but frustration. 

And then your heart screamed again, when you saw that the suit of armour had pushed past Mr. Coppola and was heading straight for you, moving much faster than you would have ever thought possible.

**Run!**

You made to obey, but you only managed to spin and fall into a sloppy sprint for a few panicked moments before you were caught up in a vice grip from behind. A scream burst from you unbidden as you thrashed back against the massive metal creature.  You kicked your legs against a nearby tree to attempt to topple the both of you, but it did little more than cause the monster to grunt, unimpressed. Horrific visions swam in your eyes as your friend gave an unnatural squeal. When they spoke, it was broken and desperate.

**This is going to hurt. Be ready!**

You only had a second to prepare yourself before your friend descended like a whirlwind through your body, their magic tearing at the wall between you. You keened high in the back of your throat as you ground your teeth together, your skin feeling uncomfortably taut. 

You caught the ghosts of images out of the corner of your eyes as your head lolled against the creature’s rough handling, but you did not look. There was too much—too many—you could not look!  _ You couldn’t understand!  _ The past tore through the cracks into the present—worlds smashed together with little more than a whimper—and from it was born the earth and moon—heaven and hell—humans.plants.animals.gods?gods?gods?gods?gods?GODS?GODS?GODS?GODS?

EARTH GODS

FALSE BEASTS

**Run, Frisk, Run!**

You were slung to the ground as something slammed into the suit of armour from the side, your legs crumpling underneath you as you stared wide-eyed up at the foggy moon’s face, seeing your mother’s eyes etched into the cracks.

The cries of laughter and violence echoed in the night.

The wall between your friend and you was propped, patched, and slapped together as your mind returned. The visions and madness left you as though a door had slammed between you and them, and without another moment’s hesitation, you scrambled into a run. Your heart pounded insistently within its cage as you struggled not to look behind you. 

The sounds coming from all around made you break out in a cold sweat.

Squeals and screams.

Roars and rumbling.

Clanking and clawing.

Behind you.

Above you.

Beside you.

You just ran.

You only listened to your breath.

And the steady sound of your heart.

**There—get behind that tree!**

You reached up to grab at a low-hanging branch, the bark scraping at your palm as you used it to swing yourself around the tree, pressing your back hard against it. You covered your mouth with both hands and crouched down low, your entire body shivering with desperation. You tried to listen around you through the clamouring of your heart and breath, but the harder you tried, the more your ears were filled with the sounds of your body’s panic.

**Try to relax for this next part or we’ll have to deal with a fit while trying to survive. It is going to hurt.**

You nodded manically, closing your eyes and counting up to and down from twenty to keep yourself still as your friend’s magic pressed at your skin. This time was much different than when they had slipped out of you to mark Papyrus. Their magic had been quiet— _ subtle _ —then. Now it raged within you, bubbling and boiling, rushing in your ears like a wall of water coming to sweep you out to sea. It welled up against your skin until tears trickled down your cheeks, your teeth plunged into your tongue to keep you quiet through the pain.

It built and built until you thought you would scream—and then suddenly it was over. When you lifted your head with a silent rush of breath, you thought you’d blacked out, it was so dark. You lifted your hand in front of your face, but you could barely see it. You took a shuddering breath and looked around you, unfolding yourself carefully.

Where had these cloaking shadows come from?

Was this your friend’s doing?

**Go quickly!**

You nodded to no one and kept your eyes to the forest floor as you picked your way between branches and leaves with bated breath. You could hear the monsters in the distance, still fighting, their shouts and growls of rage sending waves of panic through you. It was like being in a nightmare, with the chokingly close air stealing your breath, and your heart skipping at every skitter in the dark. You couldn’t stop yourself from blinking hard as you navigated clumsily through the shadows, trying to clear your vision of the void around you.

**One of them is close! Hide quickly, quickly!**

You sprang into action, slipping behind the closest tree you could reach out and touch, huffing into your palm with the sustained levels of panic you’d been kept in. Your eyes swivelled all around, trying to spot who had found you, but you couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t hear anything. You took out your knife and gripped it to your chest, closing your eyes as you shook uncontrollably. You began mouthing the Lord’s Prayer breathlessly, your vision wavering.

And then you heard it.

A swish.

A snap.

And a voice, smooth as honey, smooth as silk.

“Girls and boys, come out to play,” Mr. Coppola sang softly, his voice playful as he kicked through the dead leaves just to your left, “The moon doth shine as bright as day…” 

He began humming instead as you edged away from where you could hear him slipping through the underbrush. You panted breathlessly through your parted lips, your face twisted with fear. You flinched when your outstretched hands touched upon another tree, but you quickly pressed yourself against it.

**He’s still close. He knows we’re here somewhere.**

“Little lamb,” he called out in a sing-song tone, “why don’t you stop running from me? I promise I’ll be sweet to you if you just come to me.”

Your eyes closed tight, your fingernails digging into the sticky, wet bark of the tree. Your knife sank into the moss climbing up the side of the trunk as you fought to keep yourself under control. You could tell that you were fighting a losing battle, though. Your muscles were twitching. Blood was pouring from your nose. Spots of light danced in front of your vision.

“It will do no good to hide, my dear.”

If this chase continued, you would lose yourself to a fit.

“I will find you, in the end.”

You looked all around you, your eyes adjusted well enough to the unnatural dark that you could spot a few low-hanging branches above you. 

“I’ve waited so long to be whole. To be  _ real _ . All I need are your eyes and I will be perfect.”

You reached for them, clinging as tight as you could while you scrambled up. You grunted softly as you kept slipping on the dewy moss, your feet kicking out from under you. Your breath left you in a rush as a knot on the branch rammed into your diaphragm. Something had grabbed your foot and tugged you down  _ hard _ .

You looked down with wide, blurry eyes to see Mr. Coppola smiling up at you, his hand gripping your trouser leg.

“Found you.”

You screamed and kicked at him with all the force you could muster, but he was already dragging you down to the forest floor once more. You thrashed and wailed as your vision pulsed with darkness, but no matter how much you fought, he was simply too strong. You could not stop him from pulling you by your leg across the ground towards your inevitable end.

You clawed and clung and called for help—

But no one came.

And before you or your friend could do anything to save yourselves…

YOU

WERE

F

A

L

 L

   I

    N

      G

         D

           O

             W

               N.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: ZOINKS! The gang's all here!
> 
> You've met with a terrible tumblr...haven't you?
> 
> Was it [ tellcosy.tumblr.com](http://tellcosy.tumblr.com)?
> 
> Bet it was.


	32. Feast Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky little tricks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 KUDOS JFC I LOVE ALL OF YOU AND I CANNOT BELIEVE IT
> 
> ;-;
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> <3
> 
> Warning of explicit gore for this chapter.

“ _Frisk_!”

The sweet sound of the brothers’ voices did little to cut through the clawing darkness that ran its fingers across your skin, scraping and cutting. It was the last thing you heard before the mountain took you. The fall was never-ending, lasting longer than the breath you had for screaming. You could no longer see the light from the hole. You could no longer feel the hand on your ankle. You couldn’t even feel his presence beside you.

The only thing you knew was the cloying, sticky, condensed smell of flowers and rot. It invaded your nose and mouth and lungs and eyes, worming through your pores into your body and oh _God_ _oh God_ this was it this was the end, wasn’t it?

You curled yourself into a ball, intent on using what was left of your composure to comfort your friend as they keened with desperate fear. You began to shush them silently as they struggled to keep the invading fingers of darkness from your soul. You tried to make peace with your death, but before the full reality could hit you, you were already hitting the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

_Fffffri…_

Static.

_Fuh…_

Was that a radio?

_Ffffffff…_

Or…something whispering?

_…Rrrrrr…_

It didn’t sound human, though.

**_…_ ** **frisk…**

**Wake up, Frisk!**

You jolted to life with a powerful gasp, flooding your lungs with thick, sweet, foul air. Though your eyes were open, you couldn’t see anything around you. The darkness was like a living, breathing entity, pressing at your body as though it were a curious child wondering what sort of creature you were.

“She’s awake!”

You shuddered and sat up with a groan, holding a hand to the back of your throbbing head. You flinched and yanked your hand back when your fingertips touched something sticky and wet matted in your hair.

**Frisk, stay calm and still for now. You might have been seriously hurt in the fall.**

It felt like…blood.

Oh, that couldn’t be a good sign.

“I-i-isss ssshe o-o-okaaaay?”

A quick smell of your fingers confirmed that it was indeed blood. Although it smelled almost…old. Slightly decayed. You turned your nose away from the horrible smell, bending forward to get a better feel at your head. As you moved, though, you noticed that your hair wasn’t the only thing clotted with the blood.

“I don’t know. She looks pretty confused.”

All along your back, your clothes clung to your skin, heavy and sticky with more of the rotting blood. You swung your head around, ignoring the intense wave of vertigo you suffered because of it, trying desperately to see what you had landed on.

**Don’t look, Frisk.**

Finally, as though the mountain had the devil’s sense of humour, your eyes adjusted to the darkness well enough to see what had cushioned your fall.

Flowers.

Hundreds of tall, fat yellow flowers with their heads bent towards you, wide petals framing the clusters of wide, humanoid eyes that made up their faces.

“Frisk? Are you alright?”

**I told you not to look.**

Your mouth gaped with disgust and fear, great rolling shudders wracking your body. You didn’t want to look down, but your eyes moved of their own accord until you saw the broken, twisted carcasses of the flowers you had fallen on. Blood was still gushing from their snapped stems and burst eyes, the remaining eyes rolling manically with silent pain.

“ _Uuuuuuuuuhhhhhh_!” you groaned senselessly, your gorge heaving as you surveyed the gore.

“Frisk? W-what’s wrong, Sans? What’s wrong with her?”

You gagged heavily as you instinctively crab-walked away, forgetting the flowers behind you until your palm sank into the wet, bulbous eyes underneath them. You cried out with horror as your momentum caused your weight to burst more of the eyes, blood pooling up as the other eyes twitched between your fingers.

**Frisk, try not to thi—**

You lost the battle against your stomach, barely able to turn yourself around before you heaved up the remaining blood and meat from earlier. You heard a great commotion around you—snarls and what sounded like hard thumps—but you could neither see nor understand what was happening. Tears streamed from your bulging eyes as you choked on your own bile, moaning with distress.

Then came the wonderful sight of a pair of bloodied tennis shoes stopping just in front of you. You looked up pitifully through heavy lids at your hulking friend. Sans surveyed you with a tilt of his head before crooking a tiny smile and offering his hand, though it dripped with a strange, black viscous liquid.

“Need some help?”

You only managed a weak smile in return before you had to lean back over the destroyed flowers and heave again.

The world spun.

**Come on, sweetheart, this isn’t the time for sleeping. You might never wake up if you do.**

You came to again, your head practically splitting itself in half with the pain throbbing through it. Grunting with the effort it took to keep your eyes open, you turned to see that it was Papyrus who was now leaning over you. His face was the only thing you could see in the choking darkness still around you. Your heart clenched to see the fear in his eyes, his pupils tiny and pulsing weakly. You reached up to brush your fingertips along his cheekbone and give him as reassuring of a smile as you could.

A wide, relieved smile of his own immediately lit up his face, though you only caught a moment of it before he looked away from you, calling out loudly into the dark, “Sans, sh-she’s fine!”

You blinked, dropping your hand onto your head instead and grimacing as you looked around you. You couldn’t see Sans. You couldn’t see _anything_ , though, thank the Lord, which meant you weren’t in the flowers anymore.

That did little to comfort you, though, and you certainly didn’t feel _fine_.

“Wha—” you rasped out before a coughing fit cut you off. You reflexively swallowed to clear the dryness in your throat, but then choked on that as well when you realised how sore it was, until your head was spinning from your violent coughs.

A skeletal hand on your back and a shadowy hand on your throat helped you calm down enough to speak again after a long few moments. When you could finally see through the red tears in your eyes again, you noticed that the relief in Papyrus’s face had disappeared as fast as it had come. “What’s happened?” you asked weakly, feeling around to make absolutely sure you weren’t sitting on the flowers anymore. Your fingers only met damp earth, though you thought you could swear they had tangled in a root or two.

When you peered down at your hand, though, you couldn’t see anything there.

Still—you’d feel much better standing, you thought.

“You fell,” Papyrus spoke softly near your ear, one of his arms going around your shoulders to support you as you struggled to your feet. You gripped onto one of his shoulders to steady yourself, baring your teeth at the pain coursing through you.

Oh, good. It seems you’d hurt your back and leg, too.

**What did you expect? We fell down a mountain onto a pile of living flowers. Not our finest moment, I’d say.**

You grimaced harder, your anger spiking harshly before petering out as fast as it had come. It wasn’t like you’d _asked_ to be captured by that—

Mr. Coppola!

“Papyrus!” you hissed quietly, your grip on his shoulder tightening. “We have to go now! That man is down here with us—he’s the one who pulled me in!”

Papyrus just kept his arm supporting you, though he smiled slightly. “We know. Sans has them, ah…locked down.”

“Them?” you asked, eyebrows drawn together. You squinted into the darkness, trying to discern who else Sans apparently had under control. Surely it wouldn’t be the suit of armour _and_ Muffet as well as Mr. Coppola?

You knew Sans was strong, but you had doubts that even he could manage all three at once.

“Undyne and—and whoever that man is. He won’t tell us.”

Undyne…it took you a fraction of a second to put together that Undyne was the armour’s—or whoever was inside it—name. The second after you did, you found yourself gripping your pendants and scraping around your pockets for your knife. “That thing is down here with us?” you croaked, fear thinning your voice and breath. “Where is it? Where are they?”

“Shhh, it’s fine, Frisk,” Papyrus comforted you, rubbing his hand up and down between your shoulder blades. It served to calm you at least a bit, but you were still taking in large, fast gulps of air. “Sans has them. They’re just there, further down the cavern.”

**Don’t bother trying to see. You won’t be able to, and it would only frighten you more if you could.**

Oh, _God_ , what did they mean by that?

What was there in the dark around you?

**Trust me, love, ignorance is much better than the alternative down here. But if you really want to see…**

No.

No. You trusted your friend’s judgement when it came to your sanity. They were right.

Sometimes it was better not to know.

“I can’t—I can’t see,” you said to Papyrus, giving your head a tiny shake as you deliberately kept your focus on him instead of the crushing blackness around you. You knew that if you looked for too long, you would instinctively try to see what was hiding in the shadows.

**Oh, sweetheart, these aren’t shadows.**

You shuddered, almost asking what they meant by _that_ , but knowing for certain you didn’t want the answer to it, either.

“Don’t worry,” Papyrus murmured in a soothing voice, though the sound of it rang bells of alarm in you. You were reminded of being spoken to just like that while being restrained by his arms, afraid for your life.

You didn’t manage to stop yourself from flinching, though thankfully Papyrus either didn’t seem to notice, or understood and chose to ignore it. You deliberately pressed yourself closer to him after that as he guided you forward, one hand in yours and the other at your hip. He did notice that, and gave you a warm smile, his eyes softening.

“Sans and I took care of Muffet before we leapt in after you. She’s not going to bother you again. Sans is waiting for us up ahead. We’ll get you out of here and back home.”

You nearly cried at the thought, but bit your lip and nodded instead. You’d never considered yourself particularly _weak_ , when you took account of everything you’d lived through and survived with relative ease. But that was exactly how you felt at that moment.

Weak.

You were in over your head so far that you were practically drowning. Even after living with your friend for years, you’d never felt so afraid for your life so consistently.

**That’s because I** **_take care_ ** **of my own.**

“The Master used to take care of us, too,” Papyrus whispered hesitantly, his voice going paper-thin once more. It rattled with an emotion he concealed too well, though you had to imagine it must be a mix of fear and anger and betrayal.

At least, that’s what you would have felt if you’d been used by your friend and left to rot by yourself after you’d outlived your usefulness.

“Can it hear us, right now?” you asked under your breath, nearly stumbling over a root. Papyrus gripped you harder, and you let out a nervous breath. “Does it know we’re here?”

“Probably,” was all he said, though there was a mountain of unspoken words behind it. His voice shook just the slightest bit at the end. The rough bones of his hand were digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. His gait lengthened.

The Master knew.

And Papyrus was afraid.

You held your tongue until you were guided through a low stone archway by Papyrus’s whispers. You emerged on the other side to see a soft red light streaming down from the ceiling, illuminating the hunched, shaking back of Sans. You sucked in a quick breath and held Papyrus’s hand tight when your eyes caught sight of the figures behind Sans. Undyne and Mr. Coppola knelt in front of him, their faces turned up to him, the latter with amused annoyance and the former…

…had her helmet off.

Your hands trembled as the monstrous woman turned her face to you on your approach, the venomous hatred in it somehow doubling down. You took an instinctive step back at the sight, though Papyrus’s hand at your back stopped you from retreating.

You wished he hadn’t.

Foolishly, before now, you’d imagined that Muffet would be the worst monster you would ever have the displeasure to meet. You’d been fairly disgusted by the smaller monsters you’d seen before as well, but to think that there was something that could somehow be _worse_ than your living nightmare was unfathomable.

Undyne was worse.

Much like the brothers and the top half of Muffet, Undyne was clearly humanoid. But that was where the similarities ended. With unnaturally pale skin blotched with sickly red bruises, interlocking yellow teeth that looked as sharp as glass and as long as your fingers, weakly flapping gills at her neck, and long, lank, blood-stained murky green hair falling down the back of her armour, the mermaid-like monster made you vaguely sick to your stomach. There was something incredibly unsettling about her.

**Glad we didn’t have to fight her head-on.**

You absolutely agreed.

“Hey. Eyes up here, chum bucket.”

It took Sans redirecting the woman’s gaze with his snappish words for you to notice the stiff rubber tubing that routed from below her armour into the hollow of  her throat and base of her neck. You couldn’t help your stare, watching as a thick red and gold liquid pumped rhythmically through the tubes into the woman.

It was like the beating of a heart.

“You don’t look at her,” Sans said, his voice rough and slightly breathless. Your eyebrows drew together with concern as you glanced between the three of them. It wasn’t until you took another few steps forward that the source of Sans’s effort came into view.

Wrapped around the backs of their knees and ankles and wound around their arms tight enough to keep them behind their bodies, thick red tentacle-like cords of magic bound Mr. Coppola and Undyne to the ground. They writhed and pulsed, seemingly pulled from the darkness itself. You looked away from the twitching mass of them to see Sans’s hands and forearms covered in the same magic, wriggling between his bones. Your eyes shot open wide when a clump of magic burst from beneath his breastbone, the tentacles waggling in the air like worms freed from the earth.

“Sans!” you cried weakly, your voice breaking.

He went deathly still, but wouldn’t look at you.

“Sans, stop! You’re hurting yourself,” you said, shaking your head without thinking, and giving yourself intense vertigo. You held a hand to your forehead and gave Papyrus a small nod when he immediately made to steady you.

“Oooh, yes, Sans, please don’t _hurt_ yourself,” Mr. Coppola cooed before breaking out in a booming laugh that hurt your head and made you flinch. He turned his one good eye to you, giving you a predatory smile. “Careful, dear. Your weakness is showing.”

“Don’t!” Sans snarled, making a wrenching motion with his magic-drenched hands that sent more of the tentacles jumping up to surround Mr. Coppola’s head, worming their way through his empty eye-socket and mouth. Mr. Coppola gagged and choked on them, though he still laughed, his eye trained on you as it bulged and bulged until finally it popped free from the socket, falling to his cheek and bobbing there, replaced by the wriggling arms of magic.

You were frozen, unable to look away, though you were shaking inside.

What you had assumed at first glance to be the optic nerve connecting the dislocated eye was actually…electric wiring?

“Don’t… _look_ at her.”

“Sans!” Papyrus reprimanded with a hiss, his eyes sharp on his brother.

Sans finally did look back at that, though he carefully raked his gaze across the top of you and never met your eyes. There were arms of magic wending their way up his thick spinal cord under his collar. You bit your lip to keep quiet.

“‘Pyrus, _look_ at him! He’s a— _he’s not a monster_ ! He’s some kind of—of _machine_!” Sans snapped, gesturing angrily. The magic at his chest flapped and flailed wildly, and you winced, turning away. Your eyes fell on the fish-woman instead, though you immediately regretted it.

She was smiling at you, her filmy red pupils and yellow sclera bright with vicious delight. You grimaced, gripping your pendants tighter as Papyrus dropped his hands from you at Sans’s words.

“Mmmm…m-machine?” Papyrus said, his eyes dulling for a moment before flashing intensely bright. “But—but if he’s a machine, that means that…”

“ _Alphys_ ,” Sans said, giving a hard shake of his head. “She finally did it. She fused a ghost.”

Undyne’s smile widened.

“The only thing I don’t know is who he—”

“Mettaton,” Papyrus cut in, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s working with Mettaton.”

Mr. Coppola’s laughter rose, going high and manic.

“Don’t— _gnnukkkk—_ forget— _uuuuughk_ —dear _broth_ — _uuuuaaaaghuhahaha_!” Mr. Coppola—Mettaton—choked out, his lips spread in a smile matching Undyne’s.

“We are…a _family_ ,” Undyne gurgled, her deep voice resonating in your mind. You felt your friend flinch before doubling their shadows around your heart, their magic pressing at your skin again. “And family…protects each other.”

You looked between Sans and Papyrus as they shared a sudden, gut-droppingly panicked look.

“Mother is coming.”

**Frisk, whatever happens next, when I say so, I need you to give me control.**

You nodded to no one, your arms folding over your chest with growing concern.

**Don’t worry. I have my tricks.**

“The twins—Blook, Mad—they’ll be with her—the Master will—” Papyrus said quickly, Sans cutting him off with,

“We have to go. I can’t hold them all.”

The shadows were pushing against you again, filling you to the brim. You thought that if you opened your mouth, they might well spill out from your throat. You had to shift to relieve the pressure at your skin, but it did little good.

“Frisk, can you—can our—can they help?” Papyrus asked, turning to look at you with desperate eyes.

You gnawed at your lip, opening your mouth to respond just as there was a tightening in the air, the foul, sweet-rot smell coagulating around you thick enough to choke. The hair on your body stood straight just as the tension finally burst, and out of the darkness beside you wobbled the tiny monster woman named Alphys, flanked by the eerie, doll-like twins.

You tensed, waiting for your friend to say the word—to get you out of this dangerous place—but they remained silent.

Watchful.

So you did the only thing you could do: watch as well.

And trust in your friends.

“Sans. Papyrus.”

The monster woman was not wearing her full-body veil this time, though a smaller, yellowed-white lace veil covered her forehead and eyes. Or…where eyes would be on a human.

You weren’t sure _what_ would be under there when you saw that the rest of her body was shaped like—like some kind of great lizard. Mottled greyish-green skin that reminded you of the pictures of dinosaurs you’d studied with fascination as a child. Short, stubby fingers capped off with claws dirty with old blood and filth. Equally stubby snout, with a rounded upper lip that exposed small, jagged teeth. A tail swayed and swished underneath the stained laboratory coat she wore, her small clawed feet poking from the bottom as she walked.

You’d had no inkling whatsoever that the woman in the home would look like this under that veil. You felt a bit silly, not noticing any of it.

The twins, at least, were no surprise. They still wore the same look of faint surprise on their stiff, vacant faces, the same adult-sized children’s sailor suits with floppy bows, the same brogues that clacked against the occasional stones of the mountain floor, though it was much more muffled than it had been in the home.

You held your breath as the three of them hobbled closer and closer to you, though they looked to the brothers and their captives.

“What a surprise.”

Alphys’s voice was still liquidy and thick, though it was much stronger than it had been before. She seemed…healthier, somehow. Which was a strange thing to consider, since she was still being practically carried by the twins’ arms on hers.

**No, you’re right. She does seem stronger.**

“Care to explain why you’ve taken my family hostage?” Alphys asked, her voice still calm and even friendly, though the small, shaky smile she wore wavered further when she turned her face to Mr. Coppola— _Mettaton_ , you reminded yourself. “And why you’ve taken it upon yourselves to destroy my handiwork?”

The brothers remained silent, their grim, but stalwart faces matching each other’s. Papyrus’s heart was beginning to glow once more as he edged back towards you, one arm held out across to shield you. He glanced back, looked directly in your eyes, and gave a tiny shake of his head.

Your forehead crinkled with confusion.

What had he meant by that?

**Don’t worry about it.**

Papyrus’s protective motion had caught Alphys’s eye—or whatever allowed her to see even while blinded—and her smile grew again. “Oh, Papyrus. I see you’ve mistaken my intentions, once more.” Alphys shook her head. “I’m not going to hurt her. Or you. Or Sans, for that matter, even though I _should_ for ruining Metta’s face,” she muttered, frowning deeply at Sans.

“Alphys!” Undyne’s loud, booming voice was full of reprobation as she stared open-mouthed at Alphys.

“M—moth _uuugh_?” Mettaton’s cry of indignation was cut off by another coiled mass of tentacles shoving themselves into his mouth.

“Oh, hush, you two,” Alphys scolded, sending a bolt of surprise through you. Your friend retracted slightly at that, before perking up to listen closely. “You got yourselves in this mess, even though I _explicitly stated_ _not to attack the girl_. If you end up dusted because of this, I will instantly re-animate you and kill you again _myself_ , just for putting the plan at risk.”

As your eyes went wide with shock, you felt your friend’s hand slide over yours, stilling your fidgeting. Once they had your attention, they sent a wave of tickling goosebumps through you, asking for control. You happily gave over, sinking back into your mind with a silent sigh. You didn’t know what they were planning, but you absolutely trusted them to get you and the brothers to safety.

**I appreciate the sentiment, darling, but I think you might be less than happy with what I’m about to do to accomplish that.**

Hm? What did they mean by—

“ **Alphys, is it?** ” your friend spoke suddenly, cutting off your thought fully as you watched with surprised horror as everyone turned to stare in your direction.

What? Why were they doing this? It was too dangerous! Papyrus had admitted their master was listening—watching! It would hear your friend’s voice through yours and—

**Hush. I thought you said you trusted me.**

You were so scared for them.

**I know, Frisk. But sometimes, even I have to come out of the shadows.**

“ **Care to share this plan with the rest of us?** ” your friend said aloud, holding your arms out with a smile as Papyrus stepped away.

There was stunned silence in the cavern for several long moments before Alphys began laughing a slow laugh punctuated with wet hacking coughs. She waved away the twins as she hobbled slowly towards you and your friend. “I knew it,” she said, ignoring Undyne’s cries of warning behind her as she approached. “I _knew it_ . Every time she spoke, I could see something lurking beneath, something _dark_ .” She stopped just in front of you. “It was _you_ , wasn’t it?”

“ **I’m afraid so. You were much too smart for us, it seems.** ”

“No, no,” Alphys said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know at all, at first. I had to hear her speak, to even get a hint. It was incredibly subtle. But it was enough.” She held her hands up as if to touch your cheeks. Your friend did not flinch away, obviously encouraging her to close the gap and touch her palms to your face. “Enough to plan. Enough to take a chance that I could study you.”

A light was slowly emanating from beneath Alphys’s veil, but before you could become too concerned, your friend smiled wider and spoke over the sound of Undyne’s thrashing and cursing.

“ **It was a good plan, Alphys,** ” they said, before leaning their face closer to the monster woman. “ **Unfortunately for you, you neglected to consider that** **_I_ ** **might want** **_you_ ** **.** ”

Alphys’s hands went still as death before beginning to shake, her mouth falling open. “W-what? What are—are you—”

Your friend turned their eyes up to lock with Undyne’s, which were burning with an intense hatred. They laughed lightly. “ **Undyne. It’s been a pleasure. You know where to find us.** ”

Before anyone could react, your friend had clamped your hands over Alphys’s, and the world was blinking and blurring and crushing you. It felt as though your body was swelling, pulling itself apart from the inside. Everything felt at once too small and too large, and suddenly you had the sensation of falling that you’d only ever experienced in dreams. You couldn’t scream—you couldn’t move—you could only watch helplessly as the world flashed black and red for what felt like a lifetime or a single second.

And then reality came crashing back onto you, and you were standing in the matron’s office, facing down the barrel of a silver pistol.

“ **Oh, hello Matron. Sorry to drop in on you like this, but I believe we’ll be in need of your assistance in just a few—** ”

Your knees gave out and you collapsed to the floor, your head striking the side of the chair. The last thing you heard before giving in to the soothing emptiness of unconsciousness was the matron scrambling to reach you and your blood rushing through your ears.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: a little scaleview for your viewing pleasure.
> 
> Eyup laddos, ave ye eard bout them toomblars
> 
> got one mesel
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com
> 
> (18+)


	33. Reformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys considers her options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEELOoO EVERYBODY
> 
> It's time to f-f-f-f-f-fANART
> 
>  
> 
> [ And I'm still feeling quite...hungry by SweetDemonGrls on DeviantArt (nsfw) ](http://sweetdemongrls.deviantart.com/art/And-I-m-still-feeling-quite-hungry-647567627)  
> [ We Have to Run. by SweetDemonGrls on DeviantArt ](http://sweetdemongrls.deviantart.com/art/We-Have-to-Run-647205031)
> 
>  
> 
> SO AMAZING. SO SPICY. I love them. ;v;
> 
> Now on to the chapter!

 

 

Alphys had had much better days than this, that much was certain.

After her colossal misstep with regards to the Other God had landed her in the makeshift cell she was currently pacing the length of, she was doing some fairly intense soul-searching. The whole situation was… _unexpected_ to her. 

Alphys did not do well with unexpected.

It had been hundreds of years since she’d even come close to the vicinity of unexpected.

She was suddenly remembering just how much she hated the feeling.

It wasn’t her fault, though—not really.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she wrung her hands together, ignoring the sharp stab of pain from a broken claw.

And why shouldn’t she tell herself that?

She wasn’t normally the sort of monster who would overlook something so obvious as that trap. She would never usually walk right up to an unknown quantity and _touch it_ without a thought. She wouldn’t simply stand there, marvelling at the feeling of magic writhing beneath the human’s skin. She would never neglect to consider that the Other God might be planning to take her hostage.

She was a scientist, for pity’s sake.

There were rules. Regulations. _Protocols_.

None of them seemed to apply when it came to this human.

Alphys was slightly embarrassed to think that she might have completely overlooked the girl if it wasn’t for Undyne’s keen eyes noticing the skeleton brothers acting stranger than usual. She’d followed them to the Home. Watched them return to the same human three nights in a row without doing any harm. Watched them…attach themselves.

That was when Alphys had decided that keeping watch on the girl was probably a good idea. 

If the brothers couldn’t stay away…

That could only mean one thing, really.

Even though Undyne had been extremely reluctant to shirk part of her guard duties when the time came, she’d gone along with it, on Alphys’s request. And while Undyne watched, Alphys planned.

She knew that she would have to confront the girl at some point. Somehow, she would have to get the girl away from Sans and Papyrus and get an idea of where her mind was regarding the moon-madness inherent in humans. She could only get so much from second-hand information, so there was no choice, really. If Alphys ever wanted free of that prison of a mountain, she would have to come up with something convincing.

And come up with something, she did. Her plan to have Metta seduce the girl away from the brothers nearly worked, but she’d overestimated his ability to distract the brothers well enough to slip away. Thankfully, she’d also made backup plans, just in case.

What she _hadn’t_ planned for was finding out that though her mind was oddly sound in the face of the full moon, the girl was also possessed. Even better yet, that it was likely one of the Old Gods.

_Why should she have known_? They were supposed to be dead, every last one of them. There hadn’t been any activity from any of them since…

Since the War.

Alphys had ruminated on that morsel of information for a long while when she and the others returned to the Underground. It had been so long since she’d thought of the war, though, that she found it almost painful to dredge up the memories. Not to mention the—at best—unreliable quality of her memory at the moment. Finally she decided that it would be more efficient to simply read through her master’s old journals, to see if there was any mention of an Old One surviving.

It had quickly become clear that it was to be a fruitless endeavour. 

Her master _had_ always been a particularly secretive monster, though—keeping everything to himself even when it would have benefited him to share the mental load. Alphys had never seen him write down anything more important than a few formulas. Even then, they would be scrawled in his infuriating made-up language that she could never  seem to interpret without some kind of cipher. 

Of course, now that she was blind, that didn’t matter one bit. If she wanted to see, she only ever needed to read the magic traces left behind by practically everything. She might bump into some corners here and there, where no one had gone for a while, but it was a small price to pay for the boost to her powers.

And although she didn’t have the issue of interpretation anymore, it had still been a reach for her to expect anything from the journals. So after volume after volume of mindless rambling or dull, dreary recounts of the years after the war, she’d nearly given in to the fact that she wasn’t going to find anything of use.

Then she’d found the last journal, tucked away behind some mouldering paperwork.

She’d looked at the cover of it with shaking hands, her claws clacking together.

_She couldn’t read the word on the cover_.

She couldn’t even _look_ at it for long.

Even thinking about it now, in her cell, made her scales itch and crawl. The word seemed to be carved into her mind, just behind her eyes. The moment she’d seen it, it had implanted itself in her like a railroad spike to the brain. She fell back against the slightly damp outer wall of the makeshift cell and huddled over herself, scraping at her scalp.

“No, no, no—mustn’t think—mustn’t think about it, Alphys, no, _no_ , no.”

She began to tremble again—tremble and shake and shudder just as she had then. It had taken her _so long_ —a lifetime—to look away from the writhing, pulsing, angry, laughing, shrieking word long enough to rip open the book and see what the journal itself held.

Once she had, though, she’d immediately wished she could return to the dull sadness of the previous volumes.

Alphys giggled, shaking her head and dashing away a tear of panic as the word threatened to wriggle back to the forefront of her mind. “Well,” she whispered raggedly to herself, “at least now someone knows what really happened to him.”

“What’s that?” a voice called from the doorway to the cellar.

Alphys’s head snapped up and she immediately hobbled over to the door of the cell, tilting her head this way and that to see who was on the other side. No one with magic, she thought with a catch to her breath. Human, then. Someone not under the Master’s influence.

Must be the matron.

The other figures that emerged, Alphys immediately recognised. Sans, with his tumultuous magic that twisted and snapped just underneath the surface of his softly glowing bones. And Undyne, her form hunched and limp as she was dragged into the opposite ‘cell’ from Alphys’s.

“Comfortable in there?” the human’s voice spoke from the other side of the door, much too suddenly for her liking.

“Er,” she said automatically.

“I would get some sleep while you can,” the human said in her deep, commanding voice that sent Alphys’s soul to pounding. There was something about it that seemed to tilt her entire world. It made the foreign magic in her blood wriggle and jump. “The days to come will only be more taxing than ever.”

Alphys thought she might be sick.

“Er,” Alphys said again, holding her head in a hand once more to stop herself from clawing at her scales to get the angry blood out. When she heard the soft shuffle of cloth and the clap of heels against stone, she knew the matron had moved away. She looked up hesitantly to see Sans now standing upright as he shut the door of Undyne’s cell. The matron spoke softly with Sans, but Alphys could hardly hear past the rushing of her own blood.

Alphys was just about to try childishly covering her ears with her hands to block out the human’s disorienting voice, but thankfully she left before she could send her howling.

There was a brief reprieve of utter silence save for Undyne’s ragged, bubbling breaths and the hum of her machinery. Sans hadn’t left yet, though, and Alphys had the stray thought that he might try killing them while neither the matron nor the girl were looking.

But no, he just rumbled under his breath, “That was a really stupid thing you did, Alphys.”

It took all of Alphys’s willpower to not shout through the door about _stupidity_ and who else might have been reckless in the past few weeks. Sans just had the luxury of only having one family member to look out for.

She ground her teeth, instead, and said, “Did you at least keep Metta’s chest piece intact?”

There was a brief silence before Sans spoke with slight shock in his voice, “I haven’t done anything else to him. He didn’t come with Undyne.” He gave a sharp laugh. “Maybe your family isn’t as loyal as you thought after all.”

Alphys breathed out a sigh of relief. So Mettaton _had_ listened to her, after all. She’d worried that he might go against her wishes to not follow into danger if one of them got caught. She hadn’t even tried to convince Undyne. It would have been a waste of time. There was no possibility of Undyne staying meekly inside the mountain while Alphys was possibly tortured or killed behind ‘enemy’ lines.

And if she was being truthful with herself, she was rather glad for it. The knowledge that Undyne would soon be in this cellar with her had kept her mind from fraying the past days. It had taken everything to resist the siren call of that hellish word, bleeding through every thought she’d had down in this godforsaken pit of—

“ _Alphys_.”

She snapped to with an enormous gulp of air, raking her claws down the sides of her head. She was trembling all over again, unnatural moisture beading on her scales. It felt _slimy_.

“Alphys, how long has it been since you’ve had any manna,” he said without inflection—more a statement than a question.

Alphys felt a flash of intense anger bubble over inside her, and she was pressed against the door with her magic ready to lash out before she was even aware of moving. In the next second she was curled up in the dank corner where she had flung herself, taking deep shuddering breaths to press the rage back down. 

No. She wouldn’t let herself go mad.

Not for something so trivial.

She was better than that.

She was _better than THAT_.

“T-t-tw-t-twen-twenty d-da-days,” she rattled out, taking every thought about the addictive nectar and compartmentalising them into the hidden areas of her mind. She imagined locking them away with locks that had no key. She did it again, and again, until she started calming down. Finally, when she could breathe without her lungs screaming with panic, she repeated, “It’s been twenty days without any at all.”

Sans had waited silently through it all, and when she told him how long it had been, he just sighed. Alphys knew he would be thinking of his own addiction, and the struggle it would be if he decided to take the leap as she and Papyrus had. She didn’t envy him. As difficult as it was for her—as mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly horrible—she still wasn’t…

She still hadn’t been—wasn’t—as…as _close_ …

But that thought went in the box with the other thoughts, and her crumpled face smoothed out once again.

“Has Undyne…?”

Alphys turned her face up at the quiet, almost sad question from Sans. She found herself sighing in much the same way as he had only moments before.

“I’ve—she’s too dependent—I’ve _tried_.”

She saw him shake his head slightly before she had to look away from his magic, shoving the sight into the boxes as well.

“Frisk is going to be awake tomorrow,” he said, nearly prompting Alphys to ask _why was she asleep_ and _how did he know when she would be awake_ but then she realised she already knew the answers.

She almost felt pity for the human, having no control over her own life, but it was difficult when none of them really did either.

“And…well. Somehow, I don’t think— _Frisk’s friend_ —is going to be as patient with you two as they have been with us.” Sans paused, and Alphys’s vision flickered with fear. “I hope for your sake—both of your sakes—that you _try harder_.”

When Sans turned to leave, Alphys found herself choking out, “Sans?” before she could stop herself.

Sans’s flickering, wild magic stopped.

“Is—are they— _better_? Than—than—”

Sans gave a short, amused laugh, though Alphys could hear a certain bitterness in it. “I’m down here _talking_ to you, aren’t I?”

After a beat of silence to hammer in his point and without another word, Sans left Alphys to the loneliness of the cellar.

Alphys thought for a long time after that, though she had to tread carefully in her own mind. She thought about the hundreds of years they’d been prisoner—the war that had put them there—the beast waiting below their feet.

The beasts waiting above.

She thought about Undyne.

She thought about family.

She thought about…love.

Later, when the sounds of Undyne stirring echoed through the damp chamber, she thought about freedom and the sacrifices it required.

And she decided to _try harder_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: everyone else realises their options are limited.
> 
> -a crystal ball floats up with the words tellcosy.tumblr.com bobbing gently inside- 
> 
> Oh, the tumblr in the ball? Just something new I'm trying out.


	34. Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What price are you willing to pay for knowledge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy guacamole, look at those hits! Thank you so MUCH, you guys, HOLYYYYYY~
> 
> Every comment, every bookmark, every view continues to baffle me, nearly one year on. So I will keep saying thank you until I am blue in the face.
> 
> Thank you. <3
> 
> And enjoy!

“Good afternoon, child.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of the matron’s voice fast enough to knock the spoon of soup you’d been sipping back into its bowl. You ignored Lilli’s and Iris’s breathless snickers at your surprise and straightened up in your hospital bed.

“Afternoon, m’um,” you mumbled, smoothing out the wrinkles in your bed sheets as you foisted the bowl onto Iris.

“I trust the girls have let you rest well enough this morning?” Matron said, raising her eyebrows at the two in question until they looked away, flushed and sheepish but still smiling.

“They…have,” you said, only hesitating to agree when you thought of the slight distress you’d had earlier while talking to Lilli. You’d had a lot of apologies from everyone that day, but none of them had been so uncomfortable as hers. 

You’d woken up in the hospital suddenly that morning to the sound of the church bells as Iris tucked the blanket around your legs. Both of you had startled before she’d fallen into a fit of nervous laughter, apologising for waking you up. You’d shaken your head and asked what had happened, vision swimming as you’d searched for your friend’s presence. 

They had come, but only softly, the barest hint of shadows draping around your shoulders in an absent embrace. They had apologised for both the magic they had used to get you out of the mountain and for keeping you asleep without your permission so that you could heal. You had asked about the magic, but that had only been met with another apology as they said they and Papyrus were setting their own wards around the Home and the cellar in particular, and had to focus. They promised to explain more later and retreated, leaving you with the feeling that you were being avoided.

Thankfully, you didn’t have time to dwell on that feeling as Iris had been speaking all the while, telling you about the strange figures that had been appearing from the mountain since you’d fallen. You’d eaten the porridge she’d given you while listening, no small amount of alarm spiking through you at the descriptions she rattled off. So the monsters had left the mountain fairly soon after you’d collapsed, but hadn’t actually  _ done _ anything yet. That was somehow more frightening to you than if they’d immediately set to murdering everyone in the valley. You hadn’t known what to do with that information without discussing it with your friend, so you’d just settled back into listening.

Iris also told you about Sans and Papyrus checking in on you in between their patrols. You had ignored the warmth that bloomed in your chest at the thought and instead changed the subject to why  _ she _ was there. Her face had fallen for a moment before tightening back into a closed smile as she told you of her brother, Basil, who suffered from a childhood injury that kept him hospital-bound. She volunteered at the hospital every day so she could keep an eye on his condition.

You’d been the one to apologise, then.

Her smile had brightened and she’d waved it away, saying that it wasn’t all dreary—that at least helping out in the hospital wing had kept her busy enough. Busy enough for what, you hadn’t had to ask. You could see the itchiness, the fidgeting, the  _ compulsion _ on many of the girls’ and women’s faces. In the metal-coil tension in their gaits, the never-ending pacing back and forth, back and forth—always on the lookout for the next distraction.

No matter what the matron had sworn, she could never fully erase the compulsion from her charges.

It had been a strange feeling for you, watching them all try their hardest to completely ignore the stretch of the moon’s shadow, even as the sun struggled to rise over it. It made you want to scream with frustration all while it filled you with an oddly calm sense of determination. If the sisters and girls could resist—could turn their backs on the chaos crawling across the sky as if it were an indignant child crying for attention—then so too could you, with or without your friend.

So you had sat with Iris and chatted about the care you had received after being brought in. Apparently your head injury had only taken a day to heal up, despite your friend focusing on bolstering the Home’s defences. Which was good, as Sans had seemed extremely uncomfortable seeing you in your restraints, Iris had said. You’d frowned at that, but hadn’t given any response.

You couldn’t begin to fathom one.

When Lilli found you later, the three of you had chatted about the city and how terrible the state of it was. And when Iris had to quickly go help out with another charge of hers and Lilli went quiet for several long, tense moments before bursting out with a deeply heartfelt apology for running you off on Feast Day, you didn’t even hesitate before telling her to stop being silly.

You’d chosen your words carefully when answering Lilli’s plea to take her apology seriously. You’d thought about the fact that she’d been married to Zach, and that he’d mistreated her. You’d silently come to the conclusion that there was no plausible way you could have prevented it from happening. It wasn’t your duty to keep the world and everyone in it safe from harm, even while dying yourself. Despite what your conscience told you. You knew you couldn’t hold yourself responsible for the actions of others anymore.

You had always done so, and it had only served to cause you more pain.

You were beginning to wonder if maybe that was the point.

It had been…a somewhat uncomfortable realisation, but a necessary one nonetheless. You’d had a remarkably adult conversation with Lilli about the extent of Zachary’s failures as a husband, and you’d managed to keep your rage under strict control. 

Through it all, you kept your face turned away from the looming celestial eye gazing in on you.

You were fairly sure Lilli still saw how much it angered you to hear of what he’d done, but she had the good grace to not mention how tightly you balled your fists while listening. Finally Iris returned, though, and Lilli moved on to less inflammatory topics, even though it was clear by the look in Iris’s eyes that she knew exactly what you two had been discussing.

It made you happy to see that Lilli had obviously got on with Iris. It gave you hope to see her laugh and smile with the girl—hope that even through the darkness surrounding you and the future, there would be this beacon of light to cling to. The flower to bloom in the—

Your mind had immediately cringed away from the thought of flowers.

Thankfully neither of the girls had noticed your wince, though, and you’d spent the rest of midday talking to them while testing out your steadiness on your feet. You’d only just started taking your late lunch when the matron had surprised you.

“That’s good, my dear, because I’m afraid you’re needed down below,” the matron said, her lips pulled into a severe frown only softened by the apology in her eyes. You found yourself mirroring her expression as you stood up once more, glancing over at Lilli and Iris. They simply nodded and made to leave, though Lilli gave your arm a brief, tight squeeze before she followed behind Iris. You watched them go for a few moments before turning back to the matron.

“What’s happened?”

The matron sighed almost breathlessly, her shoulders barely lifting. “Our guests seem to be taking a turn for the worse regarding their…addiction. Sans has requested you come along with Fairchild.”

“Guests?” you repeated, eyebrows lowering even further. You refrained from telling her that your friend hadn’t returned to you all day.

The matron looked the slightest bit surprised before her face smoothed over once more. “Undyne has followed her partner to the Home. She arrived yesterday.” There was a hint of confusion in her expression as she spoke.

You found you couldn’t help a bit of confusion as well. It seemed everyone had neglected to mention that both Alphys and now Undyne had been taken prisoner. You were distinctly uncomfortable at the thought of going anywhere near Undyne, but you knew if Sans was requesting your attendance, it must be important. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with you ever since…

Well, at least it seemed he trusted you still.

“Where are they?” you asked, pulling the threadbare hospital housecoat further around you nervously. You could barely meet the matron’s eyes. You didn’t want her knowing how much the events of the past few days had shaken you.

“You will find them in the cellar. I suggest you dress appropriately, child. The warmth in the air has left us.”

You gave her a cursory, absent nod, leaving on shaky legs before she could pinpoint why your face had closed up. You made your way quickly to the locker where your clothes had been washed and replaced, changing faster than you thought possible while still so weak. You had to catch your breath afterward as you slung on your quilted undercoat and nabbed a spare scarf to wind around your neck.

When you caught yourself digging around for a pair of gloves or a hat, though, you knew you were stalling for time. With a soft huff, you glanced over to the rows and rows of hospital cots, your hands tucked into your duster. You felt the wind outside rage against the Home, screaming through the cracks in the stone like angry spirits come for vengeance. You spotted Lilli and Iris sitting together on a far cot, the young man occupying it giving them a bright smile and laughter. It was obviously Iris’s brother. They looked similar enough to be twins, though Basil was much younger. Your eyes drifted back to the two women, noticing how comfortable they were sitting together—the tension of the Calling looked to have completely left them, if appearances were to be believed.

That, if nothing else, gave you the strength to tuck your hands deeper into your coat’s pockets and turn down the hallway towards the cellar door.

It took you much less time than you were comfortable with to find where the prisoners were being held. You’d briefly considered going to check your room for your knife, but figured in the end that there would be no need. With Sans and possibly Papyrus there—not to mention your friend, despite their strange distance from you—you would hardly be able to add any real power to a fight, if it came down to it. So you’d gone straight down to the small, partially-hidden door to the cellar and heaved it open with trembling fingers, gritting your teeth to keep your nerves at bay. You felt naked without your friend’s presence. You didn’t know what good you’d be to Sans without them, but it wasn’t going to stop you from meeting him. Whether or not you had the teeth to back your words up, you would still fight.

“Hello?” you called softly down the stairs as you descended, gripping the railing tight. There was hardly any light down there, the shadows feeling thicker than usual. And the smell, dear God, the smell! It was as if the entire cellar had been drenched in brine and copper before being scattered with mouldy flowers. Your stomach gave a flop before settling down, becoming accustomed to the stink of the monsters’ master and the mountain. “Sans?”

A grunt from down below was your only answer, though you soon spotted deep red, flatly glowing pupils looking up at you. You gave a small, unsure smile. The eyes turned away, leaving you to navigate the remaining stairs in the dim light from the gas lamps once more. You were surprised by a hot, insidious wave of anger that thundered across your heart. You tried to push it away, but you were still left with a sour taste in your mouth at Sans’s continued snubbing. You decided to ignore it. Now wasn’t the time for dwelling on personal grievances.

“We’re down here, Frisk,” Papyrus’s voice floated up, paper-thin and subdued. You were a little alarmed at that, considering how seldom you’d heard Papyrus be anything but enthusiastic, but you pushed it down as your boots found the cold cellar floor. Your heels struck the stones loudly as you strode forward to where the small lamps illuminated Papyrus’s tired face, his pupils seeming deeper in his sockets than usual as he sat slumped in the only chair in the room. You went straight to him, putting your hands on either side of his face, one of your thumbs catching on his jagged teeth.

“What’s happened?” you asked again, for what felt like the tenth time that day.

Papyrus’s eyes swam for a moment, as though his vision was going out of focus, before sharpening again on your face. “Undyne is here now and Alphys has agreed to tell us what she knows, but only—only to you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, trying to ignore the grating sigh from behind you. If Sans didn’t like you asking after Papyrus, then he should have taken care of him himself. “What’s happened  _ to you _ ?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly, rising to his feet in a swift motion that was obviously meant to instill confidence, and yet the wobble and sway that came after did the exact opposite. He gave you a grateful, if embarrassed smile as he gripped your shoulder as a support. “I’m perfectly fine.” When you gave him another look, his eyes darted away. “Maybe a little tired. From being with—”

“We don’t have time for this.”

Your head snapped around as you leveled a glare at Sans and ground out, “There’s always time to look after family.”

There was a brief moment of thick tension in the room before a slow, gurgling cackle split the silence. Goosebumps raised along your arms as you turned to the door it had come from. You hadn’t even noticed the fact that there were locks on two of the doors, or that Sans had been hovering near the one, as if he was too afraid to move away. You swallowed thickly before shoring yourself up to speak to the monster on the other side. 

Just as you opened your mouth, though, a stinging warmth spread through you, starting at your core. Your jaw snapped shut and you hissed with the effort it took to keep yourself standing as your friend returned to you. Your body felt as though it had a thousand white-hot needles pressing into every inch of it. You shuddered through it, your teeth clenching hard enough to crunch and squeak against each other. Finally, though, the prickling eased off, leaving you in waves until you simply felt sore. Before Papyrus could notice, you swiped away the blood trickling from your nose with the back of your hand.

**Sorry, love. Not much to be done for it.**

It was fine. You would be fine.

**It’s a side-effect of the magic. It would have been much worse if I’d stayed, believe me.**

You believed them.

**Best not to talk about this now, though. We’ll have time later. For now, we need to see what we can get out of that monster in there. She’s hiding something from us that even I couldn’t get to.**

Had they—had Papyrus—

**Not what you’re thinking. We’ve just tried a little…peeking.**

Why hadn’t they told you about all this? Why had they let you waste all day—all those  _ days _ !—when you could have just been healed up in an afternoon and spoken to the monster already? If getting to whatever she was hiding required you, then shouldn’t they have  _ told _ you at least?

**Better to let you heal naturally. Told you—after that kind of magic, if I stick around, it can do permanent damage. We weren’t that desperate. They might be getting a little itchy ‘round the gills, but they won’t be dying anytime soon, despite what Sans says.**

Still. You would have appreciated the choice, at least.

You felt rather than heard the slight laughter of your friend.  **I’ll be sure to ask you next time if you want to permanently damage yourself just to get a few days ahead of an inevitable evil, dear.**

You couldn’t help the tiny smile as you turned back to the door after a quick look of reassurance to Papyrus. You felt much better—more secure—when your friend was tucked right where they belonged. You held your head close to the door and called out softly, “Hello? Is that Alvi—Alphys?”

More chuckles, and a scraping shuffle. A voice came from just on the other side of the rough wooden door. “It m-might be.”

You pushed down the burst of annoyance that threatened to spill out. “Good evening, Alphys. May I ask why you’ve requested me specifically?”

There was an uncomfortably long silence from the monster, leaving the hum of Undyne’s armour and the quiet clicking of the brothers’ bones the only sound to be heard. You were surprised at how relaxed you were—the last time you’d been around these two monsters, you’d been in the depths of the enemy’s lair, trying to think of how to stay alive. But your heart was calm and your mind was clear. It was as if you’d been…refreshed.

As soon as the thought came to you, you noticed a distinct twitch from your friend that carried a hint of…guilt? Before you could ask them about it, though, Alphys was talking again.

“O-oh… _ oh _ ! Yes, yes, yes, of course, of course you’d—you wouldn’t know—you weren’t to know—who would have thought to tell you?  _ Them _ ?” Several loud, hacking laughs. “As if they’d know, themselves! Goodness, goodness, such a mess. Such a…such a…mess…” There came a quiet whining hum, and a strange scraping sound coupled with ragged whispers. You put your hand flat against the door, your eyebrows drawn with concern. She wasn’t making any sense at all. When you leaned in closer to catch what she was whispering, the only thing you could make out was, “No, no, no, don’t think about it.”  

“Are you alright in there? Do you need me to send someone in to help you?” you asked quietly, not sure if the suggestion would be taken kindly, but knowing you had to ask nonetheless. You weren’t going to let her suffer just because she was being held.

Another sharp silence followed by a laugh that devolved quickly into whooping coughs. You winced, turning your face away. When she’d finally gotten the coughing under control and her breath back, Alphys groaned weakly. “Ssso thoughtful,” she slurred.

You chewed at your lip at how broken she sounded, your eyes searching for Papyrus’s desperately. He looked just as uncomfortable as you, and the tiredness was back in force. He looked as if he could crumble to the ground any moment. Your breath caught with alarm and before you could think not to, you were turning to Sans with worry. Sans, by contrast, looked stronger than ever—full of restless rage and desperation. When your eyes met, you were hit with the full force of it, and you were surprised to find yourself growing anxious and irritable in the face of his unfiltered emotion. Before you let yourself get overwhelmed by it, you tore your gaze away. 

“But I think  _ you’re _ the one who’s going to need the help soon.”

“What?” you asked breathlessly, your mind still reeling from the sudden shift in emotions within you. You felt the strength of the pregnant moon from above, and heard the crying call of the earth from below. They jumbled together in your brain, clattering against your mental walls in a cacophony that resembled so many voices cackling with devilish glee. You suddenly wanted to be anywhere other than that cellar.

**Steady.**

You forced yourself to take big gulps of air, moist and rank as they were.

**Good lass. Keep focused.**

“You don’t even know what you’ve been pulled into, do you?” came Alphys’s whisper, sounding close enough to touch. “Who you’re trying to fight?” A heavy pause, thick with meaning. “Who you’re fighting  _ with _ ?”

Your stomach dropped with dread. Was it really so bad, then? Had your friend been right all along, saying that the brothers’ master was likely to be a—to be like them?

**That’s what we’re here to find out.**

You swallowed down the dread, determinedly pulling your hand away from your pendants. “Why don’t  _ you  _ tell  _ me _ what we’re fighting? If you know so much, why don’t you share?”

More laughter. It was beginning to grate on your nerves. “Do you think I’m stupid? Oh, yes, I’ll come right out and spill every secret in my head until I’m an empty husk ripe for dusting. Hah!” Your brain stumbled over the phrase ‘dusting’ before tuning back in to listen to what Alphys was now saying. “No. No, no—no thank you, I’ll stay right here until you make some promises. Signed in  _ blood _ .”

You frowned, leaning away from the door to look over at the brothers. Papyrus was looking vaguely up at the ceiling, his hand clenching one of the support beams. You could tell he was still paying attention, but had his mind mostly elsewhere. Still, you needed his opinion on this. “Papyrus?” you asked softly to get his attention. He startled, nearly toppling over as he leapt from the beam.

“Y-yes, Frisk?”

You blinked, unable to stop from glancing at Sans, whose frustration was palpable. It set you on edge—not good, if you were to now potentially parley with Alphys and Undyne. God in heaven, why hadn’t the matron come along? Why weren’t you getting her now?

**She’s busy. We can take care of this for her.**

You certainly hoped so.

“What do you think?”

“Think? About what?” Papyrus asked, his eyes shifting everywhere but hardly ever settling on yours. 

Your frown deepened. What in God’s name had happened since you’d been in hospital? Since when was Papyrus so shifty? And why wouldn’t he look directly at you?

**It’s taken a lot out of him, housing me for several days, love. It’s not an…easy fit. It took a lot of magic to make it work.**

What did that mean? Were they saying that they had changed him somehow?

**No, no, nothing like that. But you of all people know what it’s like, trying to maintain normalcy with me around. Even without the added pressure of strengthening the protection of the Home, it would have exhausted him. He hasn’t slept. You know he hasn’t.**

Oh, God, of course. Of  _ course  _ he wouldn’t have. You suddenly felt more than a little sheepish, and successfully smoothed the frown from your face before saying, “About the promises. Do you think they are trustworthy enough to negotiate with?”

There was a loud, unmistakably derisive—and very  _ human _ , you thought—snort from Sans, that both you and Papyrus ignored, though Alphys was hacking with laughter again. “Well, yes,” Papyrus answered after a few seconds thought. “Alphys is—or  _ was _ —Sans’s—” A loud grunt interrupted the rest of that sentence, and you looked over to see Sans’s eyes sharp with warning. You looked back with surprise to see Papyrus’s face pinched with his own annoyance as he muttered, “Oh, for God’s sake, Sans—anyway, yes, I believe that if we negotiate a deal with them, they will keep their word. They are—used to be—our friends.”

You tore at your lip again thoughtfully, looking between the two brothers as you considered the weight of what was being said as well as what wasn’t. You knew there wasn’t much of an option, but you had to know that you’d considered everything before saying, “Alright. What would it take for you to share what you know?”

“First and foremost, protection.”

“Done,” you said without waiting to ask your friend or the brothers. You didn’t care if they didn’t want to protect the monsters—it was the very least you could do and live with yourself. You’d spent your life protecting people even if they didn’t deserve it—what was two more?

“Oh, sweet human, so quick to promise even when you know nothing of your enemy. Tell me, will you still be so quick to protect once you’re face-to-face with true destruction?”

A growl sounded from behind you, but you just held out a hand to silence Sans. You absolutely did not need him butting into the conversation and wrecking any chance you had to gain an upper hand. “Yes, I believe I will. Now, is that all or were there other demands?”

Another quiet moment before a small, wonder-filled laugh huffed out of the monster woman. “She believes so.” A quiet hum. “Yes, there are more demands. One being that I will be allowed to study you—your blood, your bond, everything.”

“Why?” you asked, curiosity overwhelming your uncertainty even as Papyrus caught your eye and gave you a nervous shake of his head.

“I—I need to know what it is about you—specifically you—that takes the Old blood so easily. I need to know if it can be—replicated.”

“Done,” you said quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. Both Papyrus and your friend seemed somewhat surprised at your acquiescence, but you just mentally shrugged at them. What choice did you have?

And really, what lasting harm could she do, surrounded by the eyes of her former enemies?

“Oh!” Alphys gasped, seeming to be just as surprised as everyone else that you’d agreed. “Ahh, then…then the last dem-demand I— _ we _ —have is…that your— _ friend _ , did you say, Sans, hah! what a thought, being an Old One’s  _ friend— _ anyway, yes, your  _ friend _ will take us into their fold and get the—take the b-bad bloood—” There was a choking sound of nervous frustration. “ _ Free us _ !” she finally squealed, as though the words had to be yanked from her physically.

For this, you did wait for your friend’s input. They seemed to mull over the thought before slipping into the space you’d vacated for them. “ **Done.** ” There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief throughout the room, bar the grunt of frustration from behind the other ‘cell’ door. You eyed it nervously, distracted enough by it that you didn’t notice your friend’s sneaky delight until they continued with, “ **On the condition.** ” Your eyebrows raised and you found Papyrus’s face mirroring your own surprise. But before you could ask your friend what they were doing, they’d used your voice to say, “ **That Sans is freed as well.** ” 

Your heart dropped to your feet with dismay as the tension in the room suddenly spiked back in force. Oh, God! What were they  _ thinking _ ? Why would they demand something that was meant to be a free choice? A deeply personal decision? Why would they weigh the fate of everything you held dear against the obstinacy of one particular monster?

Especially when that monster was one of those things you held dear.

**You have to trust me.**

You  _ didn’t  _ have to trust them.

But you…

You did.

What else was there?

What choice did you have?

Picking your heart up from the floor, you turned to bare it to Sans, knowing your eyes were already pleading for him to be reasonable. Knowing he wouldn’t be.

There was nothing but rage to meet your plea.

Sans stood tall, his body radiating pure anger. His eyes were practically spitting magic as you opened your mouth to tell him to  _ please _ think of what it would mean if he would just  _ agree _ .

“Don’t.”

You flinched, stamping down the spike of your own anger. “Sans.”

“ _ Don’t _ .”

You bit down hard on your lip to keep the anger at bay. “Sans,  _ please _ .”

“I thought I could trust you.” The razor-sharp edge to his voice did nothing to hide the hurt behind it.

For reasons you couldn’t begin to fathom, his words only made your temper flare more. You found yourself taking a few strides forward, the sound of Alphys’s rusty cackles and the rattling of the other door against its hinges fading into the background. “Trust  _ me _ ?” you snapped, your eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re blaming  _ me _ for this?”

Sans opened his mouth as if he’d like to shout back that  _ yes _ , of course he was blaming you, but something seemed to hold him back. He simply stood and bore down on you with his burning gaze before you saw something in him break, and without another word, he turned and stormed from the cellar. You stood shocked, too dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events that you couldn’t seem to reason your way back from the spiraling, raging fire inside you. It built and built so high that when Papyrus came to rest his hand on your shoulder, you couldn’t even look at him, you were so afraid of the violence in you.

“I-I’ll go…I’ll go talk to him. I’m used to—he just  _ gets _ like this, sometimes. He’s been building up to it for a while, I think.”

“No,” you said, surprising even yourself. Your voice didn’t even sound like you, anymore. It was rough, hoarse. “You go rest. I’ll take care of it.”

“No, Frisk, someone needs to stay down here with Alphys and Undyne.”

“They’ll be fine,” you ground out. “What are they going to do, escape?” You laughed harshly. “They’ll need some impossible luck to to get free from your master if they do.”

Papyrus sighed, but didn’t argue that point any further. “I still don’t want you to go, you’ll both get—”

You forced yourself to look up to Papyrus and put a hand over his, trying to convey what you were feeling—what you were  _ needing _ —with just one look. His eyes searched yours for a few moments before he nodded, the exhaustion in him seeming to overwhelm his other concerns. You were ready to smile and send him on his way before he ducked down and pressed his teeth to your cheek, his arms coming around your shoulders. With only that simple gesture, you found the spiral of your anger stopped in its tracks. You suddenly felt  _ focused  _ instead of out of control. You leaned into his kiss, returning it immediately as he attempted to pull away. After you pressed another quick, chaste kiss to his teeth that left you even more in control, you were both flushed in the cheeks when you separated.

“Goodnight, Frisk. I—Sans, he—” You raised your eyebrows when Papyrus stumbled over his words. “He will have gone back to your room. He’s been staying there since you were in hospital.”

You could only nod, slightly shocked that he’d willingly given up his brother’s location.

“Papyrus? Do me a favour?” you asked, finally finding your voice just as he turned to go. He looked back and nodded, his hand gripping the railing tight as he hunched down beneath the low ceiling. “Take our friend with you?”

**Oh? What have I done to deserve exile?**

You said nothing to them in return, merely remembering the last few minutes in your mind.

**I—ah, fair enough. Try not to get squashed, my dear.**

You would do your best.

**Good. Don’t be too long.**

Once you felt your friend leave quietly once more with Papyrus, you took a deep, steeling breath and mounted the stairs.

You and Sans had been dancing around each other for days now.

It was time for the dance to end.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Sans and Frisk have it out.
> 
> Hey!
> 
> hEYYY you BOYSQUITATTUMBLRIN
> 
> mmMMMMNOTONMAHWATCHBOYS
> 
> WHooooOOOOOOOO
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	35. Reparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dance concludes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellote, welxcome my fan-fic......its not done
> 
> emjoy!!!!!!!!

“Sans.”

You closed your bedroom door behind you and leaned back against it, your anger now focused to a fine point. You kept your eyes trained on the silhouette of the monster in front of you, knowing that you were in for a fight, whether or not you were feeling reasonable.

“Leave me alone, human.”

You snorted with disgust. “A good parody of yourself, but not quite enough conviction. Why don’t you try telling me again that I’m fucked?”

You only got a glare over the shoulder for your sarcasm.

You sighed. “Sans, we have to talk about what happened back there. About everything.” You took a few steps into your room, hands firmly tucked into your pockets. You noticed the messiness of your bed and the side of your mouth twitched. You turned your eyes back to Sans. “Why were you—why have you  _ been _ so  _ angry _ ?”

Sans’s hands gripping the windowsill dug in hard enough to scrape the stone. You only gave them a cursory glance before turning back to his face, though. You weren’t going to be distracted by his attempts at bluster. You’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“You should have listened to me and kept away from us,” Sans muttered finally, his deep voice pressing against your ears. He still wouldn’t look at you. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry, I must have lost consciousness for a moment,” you snapped, frowning. “Are you talking to  _ me _ or some other human, because we both know that that wasn’t ever an option for me.”

“If you hadn’t  _ stalked _ us —  _ begged us _ —” Sans bit back at you, very nearly turning to face you before he seemed to catch himself. His entire body was rigid with tension as he kept staring out at the grounds and the mist descending upon them. He’d caught a few drops of rain on his face as well. You had to fist your hand in your pocket to keep from reaching out and wiping them away.

You waited for a few seconds for him to continue, but he never did. He was obviously wanting to have it all out as much as you did, but something was holding him back. You had to smother the shout of frustration that threatened to burst from you. Without Chara there to dampen your emotions, you were struggling not to give in to impulse. It didn't help that he was he being so…so  _ immature. _ Surely he must be able to see that avoiding the issue would only make it worse?

“I suppose that answers the question ‘will Sans and I ever be able to discuss something like the adults we’re meant to be’ then,” you snarked, holding a hand palm-up in shrugging defeat.

Another glare.

With that, you decided to cut straight to the heart of the matter. You were done edging around him in the hopes of getting back into his good graces. Whatever you’d done wrong, or hadn’t done right, being understanding and patient hadn’t worked.

“Okay, Sans. Say I hadn’t stalked you, or—begged?—you. Then what?” you asked, your voice rough and clipped. “You’d be safe inside your mountain, or out killing more men? You’d still be a mindless slave? What were you going to say, Sans?” You paused, wanting to close the space between you, but knowing that you both needed it right now. “Was it perhaps that if I hadn’t fallen in love with your brother—if we had been strong enough to resist the pull between us—then  _ you _ wouldn’t have woken up to something that you desperately wished you could ignore?”

“Fuck off, Chara, I’m not giving you more ammunition against me,” Sans said with a sigh, the distrust and disappointment clear in his voice.

“My  _ name _ ,” you ground out between clenched teeth, “is  _ Frisk _ . I’ll thank you to use it when accusing me of betrayal.”

That got a quick look of surprised disbelief. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, Sans,” you said quickly, wanting to keep his full attention.

He gave you a smile of openly patronising pity. “ _ Frisk _ might be the one moving her mouth, but it ’s  _ Chara’s  _ words coming out.” He paused before turning away again. “And you call me a slave. At least I never had the master’s hand inside me, working me like a puppet.”

“I’ve heard differently,” you bluffed. “I’ve heard that you’re the Master’s favourite  _ dog _ .”

His hands were now chipping off pieces of the stone underneath the sill, though he still wore that smile.

“That when the master calls, you come running with your tongue out, ready and willing to take anything they’ll give you.”

The look was twisting now, becoming ugly and predatory. He was facing you fully, his hands balling into fists as he used his height to loom over you.

You lifted your chin and returned his pitying look. “Tell me, how can I even know I’m speaking to Sans right now? Because I see  _ Sans _ talking, but really, it could easily be the  _ Master’s _ words coming out.”

There was a long, painfully tense silence, your carefully measured breathing the only sound in the room.

“Very cute,” he said finally, his eyes sparking again. You couldn’t stop the small crow of victory inside your heart. “But maybe next time you should try thinking of your own line instead of stealing someone else’s.”

“I could say the same to  _ you _ , you know,” you said, your eyebrows raising high. You paused long enough to watch him scoff at you before saying, “You told me I could trust you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said dismissively. You caught his arm with a hand as he tried to look away again, gripping him hard enough to keep him in place. You were surprised at how… _ weak _ his bones felt, just at that moment. You suddenly had the thought that if you really wanted to, you could truly hurt Sans.

“Yes, you do,” you said softly. You waited for him to respond, but when he simply shook his head and looked down to the floor with a flash of panic in his eyes, you sighed under your breath. “Are we going to keep avoiding this forever, then?”

“I  _ don’t know _ what you’re talking about,” he repeated without a moment’s hesitation, the denial thick in his voice.

You sighed again, though it was more of a growl of frustration as you lost your composure. The look in his eyes was sending shards of guilt through you. It was not a comfortable feeling. “Sans, for God’s sake! The only reason I did what I did was because I—I thought you  _ wanted _ —”

“Well, you thought wrong,” he snapped, wrenching his arm from you.

You flinched, but kept your head held high. “Did I? Because I was fairly certain at the _time_ _—”_

“No!” he growled, practically in your face now. You had to bend slightly to maintain eye contact. “You must have hit your head harder than we thought, because I didn’t—I would _never_ _—I couldn’t—_ ”

“Couldn’t  _ what _ , Sans? ” When your outburst only got a furious, frustrated shake of his head, your temper flared hotter than ever and your eyes went wide with challenge. You couldn’t  _ believe  _ he was still trying to deny the truth even when faced with it directly. “  _ What, Sans _ ? What would you never do? ” Still, no response, and you found yourself pushing into  _ his _ space. He looked shocked for a brief second, but soon covered it with that same mask of indifference. “Say it, Sans! Say that you would  _ never _ fuck a human, not even when you give them looks like you can’t believe you understand them  _ so well _ despite the world of difference, or like you want to protect them from everything bad that’s happening even if it costs you dearly, or like you… you want to  _ eat them up  _ when you see them touching themselves in ways that you’d never have imagined could affect you.” You paused, taking deep, shaking breaths. “I need to hear you say it. Because God knows I can’t take this anymore. I can’t bear having you pretend that what we did never happened, while also  _ punishing _ me for it. Even I can’t navigate my way around the absurdity of that.”

“I’m—I’m not punishing you for anything,” Sans bit back, though the stumble spoke more than his words ever could.

You gave a sad laugh, shaking your head. “That’s a damned lie, and you know it. You’ve been avoiding me, refusing to speak to me—to even  _ look _ at me—and just expecting me to accept it. Well, Sans, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m never going to do that. You can’t ask me to.”

“You’re  _ not _ a dis—” Sans cut himself off with a frustrated growl. “I never asked you to do anything for me.”

You sighed, the rest of the fire in you draining away like water out of the bath. You were left feeling sick—tired, hungry, and impotent, like nothing you did would make any difference at all. No matter how hard you screamed or how often you fought, you would get nowhere. You watched Sans’s face as he desperately tried to keep any emotion from showing, and something about that broke your heart. What had you done that was so bad that he couldn’t even let you know what he was feeling?

You wish you knew.

But you were done asking.

You felt yourself crumple—both physically and mentally—and all you could manage was another shake of the head as you turned away and sat gingerly on the edge of your bed. “Well, Sans, that’s it exactly.” You let your hands fall into your lap as you looked up at him. His arms were crossed now as he regarded you warily. “You  _ didn’t  _ ask me. You never thought to give me the choice. You simply expected me to oblige.”

Your words hung in the air like spears poised to strike, though they were said tiredly. Sans seemed to be struggling with them, if the way his pupils danced with fear was any indication. You looked away, listening to the sound of the rain gathering its strength outside. You watched heavy droplets crash down through the open window, starting a small puddle around Sans’s shoes. Still, he said nothing. He didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you and looking like he wished he could leave.

At this point, so did you.

After what felt like a lifetime of silence, Sans broke through it with a quiet, “Fine. You win.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, disbelief coursing through you. “What did you say?”

He sighed just as you had, scraping a hand over his skull with frustration before he came to sit beside you on the bed. Your eyes followed him the whole time, unable to look away. He didn’t look at you even when your knee was touching his femur through the trousers pooled around it.

“I said you win. I’ll take the mark, I’ll get clean of manna. I’m too tired to fight it anymore.”

You stared openly at him, face pinched with worry at the flatness of his voice. “Sans.” When he still wouldn’t look at you, you took a chance and reached out a trembling hand, touching it to his jaw. Finally—God in heaven,  _ finally _ —he looked at you.  _ Really _ looked at you. And you couldn’t help the breath that caught in your throat at the sight.

Because Sans looked  _ defeated _ .

“What  _ happened _ to you, Sans?” you whispered, your thumb tracing the hairline cracks in his cheekbone. “Did I truly hurt you so badly?”

His eyes fell. “No.”

You let your hand fall from his face to find his hand. “Then why are you so tired? Why are you so  _ sad _ ?” When he only responded with a huff of bitter laughter, you pressed on. “And why the sudden change of heart?”

He met your eyes again, his now devoid of the passion that had sparked from them before. “Because there isn’t a reason to keep fighting it anymore. I don’t have any pride left to lose by giving in to Chara. They have Papyrus. They aren’t going to stop trying to get me, too. Sending you after me was proof enough of that. So. I might as well. I was never strong enough to fight back against gods.” He paused, before a rueful smile pulled at his mouth. “At least this one pretends to care about the people I love.”

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered and leapt at the thought that he might have been talking about you as well, you focused on saying, “They didn’t send me, Sans. They aren’t even here with me now.”

Sans’s eyes narrowed with confusion, his brows pulling together as he peered closely at you as if searching for something. You heard him take a deep breath through his nose before he let it out in a rush, saying, “What?”

You threaded your fingers through his and squeezed softly. “They’re with ‘Pyrus again. Just for a little bit. I—” You hesitated, but decided it was better that you didn’t lie about how you felt. “I wasn’t happy at all with how they cornered you like that.”

“Then why did you…?” Sans asked, trailing off meaningfully.

You smiled, though your brows were pulled together with slight confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? I—I care for you, Sans. I don’t want you to feel like you were pressured into such a big decision.” You paused, giving a little shrug. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still truly believe it would be best if you trusted them and took the help.”

Sans exhaled softly, though it was neither bitter nor as tired as it was just minutes before. “Why  _ do _ you trust them? You, of all people, should know how little you can trust a Great One.”

You gave a small half-nod, half-shake of your head, still smiling. “Well, to be completely fair, I didn’t _ know  _ they were a—a  _ Great One _ , or an  _ Old One,  _ or even a god, when they first came to me.” Sans gave you sceptical frown and looked ready to argue, but you cut him off. “Of course I suspected, but they knew what I needed and asked very little in return. At—at the time, I didn’t particularly care if they were trustworthy.”

Sans seemed to ruminate on that, his head falling back so his eyes faced the ceiling. You watched his profile as he thought on your words, stroking your fingertips against his palm. After only a few moments, he said, “And now?”

“I still don’t,” you said, surprising even yourself with your candour. You hadn’t given it much thought—what you felt for Chara—besides the brief discussion you'd had on the lake with them. But you didn’t have that luxury anymore. You knew you needed to be completely honest with Sans for him to be able to make his decision. You didn’t want him to come to you out of defeat, or desperation, but a true desire to be free. With that in mind, you gave a little laugh at Sans’s surprise and continued on. “I  _ know _ they aren’t completely trustworthy. Of course they aren’t—they’re a god. Even though I do care for them, how can I fully trust anything that is so unchangeable, so single-minded in its purpose? But I don’t particularly see the point in thinking too much about it, when they are the best option we have right now.” You shrugged a shoulder again. “It is enough, for me, that I understand them.”

“Frisk, you don’t  _ know _ that,” Sans said with exasperation.

“I understand more than anyone gives me credit for,” you said, gently tugging your pendants from beneath your shirt and waistcoat. Sans’s eyes followed the motion of your hands closely, his pupils sharpening when he caught sight of the stone heart. You just smiled in response to his questioning look. “You see these pendants?”

Sans nodded silently, his eyes still on the rock dangling from the cord.

“These are all mementos of people I love. This one,” you held up the cross, “My mother. A devoted, religious woman, dedicated to helping those in need, no matter who they may be. I kept it hidden from everyone after she died, so they couldn’t sell it to pay my father’s debts. I keep it to remind myself of the need for compassion—that everyone deserves many chances in life, and help when they ask for it.” You paused, your thumb tracing the lines of the cross as you remembered your mother’s sweet voice, singing to you when you woke from a nightmare. You’d had many, even as a child. Always dreaming of some other life, some other world where horrors chased after you, their shadowy fingers grasping at your skin. Your mother had always chased them away, singing her songs of the sea and of love.

Singing those songs to yourself had never worked as well, after she’d died.

You held up the blue pendant, shaking yourself from your reverie. “Lilli. To remember her by. Before I was taken away to rot in hospital for years. It was meant to be a promise—that she would never leave me, would never forget the love we shared. That no matter how long it took for me to be free again, she would be waiting.” You were surprised at the steadiness of your hand, even while discussing your past relationship with the woman who had come back into your life. You had been  _ so afraid _ to tell Sans, but that seemed so far away now. So silly. What did it matter who you had loved when you were a child? “I keep it as a reminder that nothing is permanent, no matter how we try to grasp it and keep it close. That love is as fleeting as the wind, and the only way to keep it in our hearts is to nurture it every day.”

You held Sans’s gaze as you spoke, trying to convey your true meaning through your words. He said nothing this time, merely staring back with pulsing lights in his sockets.

You held out the third pendant, the small rock heart. “Papyrus.” You smiled softly. “Carved for a stranger who would become friend, then lover, because of a simple mistake. At the time, I had no idea why I kept it. It had been a reminder of the threat the mountain posed. A physical manifestation of the compulsion I felt to return. To the mountain.” You hesitated, then whispered, “To you.”

Sans’s eyes danced, but he still said nothing.

“By all means, the thought of that alone should have dissuaded me from keeping this trinket. But…I think it was for exactly those reasons that I did.” You laughed, worrying at your lip, your eyes falling down to the sight of your hands entwined. “It was a defiance of reason. A rebellion against sense. And this little heart whispered to me every day of the possibilities that awaited below. I think now…that I must have kept it as a reminder of myself.”

There was a heavy silence in the room broken only by the fat raindrops falling to the ground.

“Frisk…”

You smiled somewhat bitterly, though you hardly felt it. “Because no matter what people think of me, I understand Chara perfectly well. I understand that they can change themself as easily as a leopard can change its spots. They are  _ other _ . While they may say the words and make the motions of change, they will never be anything other than a god, looking down on the people of earth from a distance. We are to them as toys are to a child. Where the child may imagine their toys to have a life outside of their desires, it simply never occurs to them to  _ not  _ play with them. And so we dance the dance, because what choice do we have? There are hands much greater than ours manipulating our fate. The best we can do is remind the child that its toys are both  _ living _ as well as  _ alive _ .” You paused for breath, smiling sadly again and shaking your head. “And hope they listen.”

Sans’s face was empty of emotion, but still warm. No longer the impenetrable mask from before. “And you think those,” he pointed to your pendants that lay against your chest once more, “are that reminder to Chara.”

“No,” you said without hesitation, your voice much rougher than you’d intended and your back straight as a board. “ _ I _ am that reminder.”

Sans nearly flinched back before he managed to stop himself, his entire body taking on that deathly stillness that only monsters seemed to be capable of. He was obviously mulling over your words while you both sat in companionable silence—you, watching the rain fall, and him, simply staring down at his hands. You felt no need to argue your case any further. If Sans didn’t understand, or didn’t care, then that was on him. You knew you couldn’t continue fighting against his master while also fighting him and his compulsions. You knew that  _ he  _ knew that. But you weren’t going to pressure or persuade him more than you already had. Nobody else could do this for him. It was time for him to make his own path.

And you’d deal with whatever he decided, because that’s what you did.

After a long while, and you falling into a deep trance while catching sight of the moon beyond the rain clouds, you were snapped back to reality by Sans murmuring,

“Okay.”

You took in a long, shuddering breath as you had to physically pull your consciousness back from the blood-soaked moon to focus on Sans, your eyes wide. “Okay?”

Sans gave a knowing half-smile, gripping your hand tight. “I’ll do it. Papyrus wants me to. You want me to. The others—Alphys and Undyne—need this. They need to be free. If I do it, then they will get the help they need.” He paused, letting out a soft breath. “So I’ll do it.”

You simply studied his face for a few long seconds before saying, “Just for a moment, forget what everyone else wants, Sans.” You turned to him fully, taking his other hand as well. “Now tell me, what do  _ you _ want?”

The fire that bloomed behind Sans’s eyes as you locked gazes was enough to take your breath away. You wanted desperately to bridge the gap between you and press your lips to his mouth, but you held back. You weren’t sure why Sans was so afraid to talk about what had happened, but you weren’t going to push him into it any more. It was enough that he was simply talking to you again. You would take what you could until he was ready to open up about his fear.

Meanwhile, you had to keep yourself under control even while your heart galloped against your ribs and your mouth went dry with excitement at the way Sans looked at you when asked what he wanted.

It was not an easy task.

There was a long, meaningful silence where Sans seemed to be struggling with his own urges before he said in a deep, hoarse voice, “You  _ know _ what I—what I want.”

You found yourself leaning forward the barest amount, nodding encouragingly but saying nothing, too afraid to ruin the moment.

“But I—I can’t—I can’t right now,” Sans ground out, his hands gripping yours tight enough to hurt. You ignored it, gripping him back just as hard as he spoke. “I have to do this first. I have to be free. It’s too—I’m too—I’m not  _ trustworthy _ , Frisk. I can’t know that I wouldn’t…” He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. You nodded again with understanding, worrying at the inside of your lip. You knew better than anyone what it was like to not be able to trust yourself because of compulsion. Sans took another quick, shuddering breath. “And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, if I did— _ anything _ .”

“You? The one that everyone is warned against in hushed whispers throughout the valley—afraid to hurt a human?” you teased, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.

Sans’s eyes gave a little flicker, but he mostly ignored your teasing as he suddenly looked resolute. “Frisk, I—you know that I l—that I  _ care _ about you. Right?”

Your smile turned affectionate, but sad as you watched him struggle to voice his feelings. It was amazing to you, sometimes, how different the brothers were. “Yes, Sans, I do know.”

Sans let out a long puff of warm air that smelled distinctly of  _ him _ , though it also carried the same flowery note from the mountain. You frowned mentally at that—it seemed no matter what, you could not escape it. “Good. Because I know I’m not very good at expressing myself.” He paused, then smiled wryly. “At least when it isn’t something I can shout about.”

“I think we’re both pretty bad at communicating with each at the moment, to be perfectly honest,” you said with a small laugh. “But that’s okay. Because as long as we’re on the same side, and working together—”

“We are—”

“—then we’ll be  _ fine _ . Something like —” you caught yourself, changing your words at the last moment, “—caring about someone…well, it takes time. Especially considering our, ah,  _ unique _ circumstances.”

Sans’s face showed gratitude for your choice of words. “I agree.” He hesitated, looking nervous. “So, are we…?”

“Friends again?” you provided, getting a quick nod in return. “Yes, I think so.”

Another sigh of relief. “Frisk, I’m sorry for what I’ve done, and everything I’ve said. I know I must seem out of my mind, and I know I owe you an explanation, but—”

“You don't owe me anything,” you said, giving his hands another reassuring squeeze. “It is much more important that you focus on getting free. Once you are, and if you feel ready to,  _ then _ we can talk more about it. Okay?”

Sans’s eyes searched yours for a few moments before he simply nodded.

“Okay,” you said with a soft smile. “Now, I think I’d better go and find Papyrus and relieve him of our friend before he goes mad with exhaustion.”

After one more squeeze of Sans’s hands before standing up, you found yourself giving in to the smallest of your temptations. You reached out to stroke a hand along Sans’s jaw while leaning into his other side to give him a feather-soft kiss on his temple, your lips barely brushing against his bone.

You pulled away with difficulty, the compulsion in your heart flaring up wildly, but Sans's hand at the back of your head kept your faces inches from each other. Your eyes met and in a single breathless moment, your lips crashed against his teeth, both of you pulled together. Your heart ached with a sickening pressure as you moved your mouth against his, your arms locking together behind his neck as his hand slid up your hip to press into your back. You kissed until you had no more breath, and even when your lungs were crying with need, you continued with abandon.

You felt as though you were burning up in the heat blazing between you, and you could not help but revel in it.

When you eventually had to take a breath or collapse from lack of air, you were immediately jolted back into reality with a nauseating lurch of your stomach as you glanced over Sans's shoulder.

The flower was watching you.

Papyrus's flower, sitting in its unassuming cup of water, was now turned toward the two of you…

...and you could swear you'd seen eyes blinking shut.

The smell of flowers crushed against you.

Sans had immediately noticed your revulsion, and had turned to follow the direction of your gaze. He looked back after a second to see you hold your palm over your nose and mouth, his eyes sharp with concern.

“Right. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

You hesitated, eyebrows raising and meeting in the middle.

“Papyrus won't mind.”

That made up your mind. You nodded enthusiastically, easing off of Sans's lap, an oily finger of guilt trailing down your neck. Sans had only just told you how afraid he was, and you'd responded by climbing on top of him like a desperate woman.

You were ashamed.

You watched with nervous eyes as Sans reached over and snatched up the flower, took it to the window and tossed it outside. Your heart was hammering in your chest as he closed the shutters and turned back to you. You fidgeted in the suddenly awkward silence before saying,

“I'm so sorry, Sans, I didn't mean to—I just wanted to—”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off before you could start rambling. “Don't be. I...I thought it was pretty clear that I wanted it, too.” His smile and bright eyes reassured you even though he threw a nervous glance over to the shutters.

You huffed out a breathless laugh, shifting from one foot to the other. You found yourself clutching your pendants tight and wishing for your friend's presence to wash away the unease in your stomach. “Maybe...maybe we should go find Papyrus and give him a break from looking after our friend?”

Sans nodded. “Good idea. We can tell the matron she'll have to empty another wine cellar for me, as well,” he said with a laugh, before reaching out a hand for you to take.

You smiled back and took it without hesitation, relief flooding through you. “I'm sure she'll be devastated.”

Neither of you looked back as you left your room hand-in-hand.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You reach below your shirt to produce another cord-full of pendants, keys, phone charms and other paraphernalia._  
>  _"My Blockbuster card. To remind me that all joy is impermanent..."_  
>  _Sans rolls his eyes and hunkers down for a long night._
> 
>  
> 
> Neck's tup: A long week for everyone.
> 
> my name is Tell,  
> and wen its nite,  
> or wen the moon  
> is shiyning brite,  
> and all the men  
> slepe like a log -  
> i stay up late.  
> i tumbl blog.
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com


	36. Purification Days 1, 2, 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of purification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for sticking around! Possible CW for this part, talk of addiction and rehabilitation

On the first day, Sans completely believed that he would be clean of manna and free within a few days.

It seemed so easy, with Frisk championing him.

He wasn’t delusional—no, no he was fully,  _ painfully  _ aware of how deep the master’s hooks were in his soul. He knew it wouldn’t be  _ easy _ . But with the end of the Blood Moon drawing ever closer, and Frisk at his back, he somehow couldn’t imagine any other outcome. It seemed that everything she set her mind to happened. 

Hadn’t she gotten him to see the futility—the utter ridiculousness—of refusing help when, in fact, he was desperate to be free just as badly as Alphys was—if not more? It seemed to be, if not completely certain, then an overwhelming likelihood that Frisk would overcome anything the Master had planned for her, with or without Chara’s aid. There was a core of true belief that lay deep inside her, and it felt like nothing would ever be able to touch that, no matter if it was earthly or…otherwise.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but laugh at the strength in her, far surpassing any monster’s he’d ever known.

Other times, he felt it must be simple foolishness—the absence of impossibility giving her an almost inhuman determination.

The night before, he certainly had.

Smothered in greedy moonlight as he’d watched over Papyrus and Frisk resting together in her bed, his mind had been a whirlwind of emotion. Dulled excitement warred with eager anxiety, foreboding wisdom with childish squeamishness, and everything getting slowly, but surely smothered by blanketing hope—and overwhelming despair.

He’d almost bolted right then and there, his magic rising to the surface with a stinging crackle against his bones. But then Frisk had opened her eyes directly onto his own, their gazes locking with heavy significance for several long moments. She’d waited until Sans had felt as though he was going to either cry with fear or shout in frustration before her lips had turned up into a soft smile, and she’d held her hand out to him, careful not to wake Papyrus.

He hadn’t even attempted to deny himself as he’d leaned forward and taken her hand in his, shifting so that he leaned against the bed, his head resting next to hers. She had been kind enough not to mention the fact that his magic had briefly formed a cushion over his bones before settling back down into a soft, calming hum in his chest.

They’d stayed that way through the night, neither one speaking of what was to come.

When he snapped awake from a brief catnap to the sound of sweet voices singing together just as the sun broke over the horizon, he found the Matron staring down at the three of them, her eyes sharp and mouth tight. She caught his eye almost immediately, crooking a finger at him before striding back out into the hall, her robes flaring at the hem. 

He threw a concerned look to Frisk, who only gave a little shrug in return and squeezed his hand before letting go. He got to his feet with a certain reluctance, but followed the matron in the end. She was been busy adjusting the gas lamps in the hall when he closed the door behind him, nerves making him hunch forward into himself.

“Something wrong, Matron?” he asked, trying to keep his voice quiet enough not to be overheard, even though he knew how unlikely that was. He’d never fully gotten used to his voice, even after all the years he’d had it.

There was a brief moment of silence as the matron continued fiddling with the lamps. “No, son—nothing wrong. I didn’t come here to scold you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching up as though she was trying not to smile. “I simply desired your opinion on something before we continue with the purification.”

He let out a small sigh of relief before he could stop himself, rubbing at the back of his skull with slight embarrassment. “Mm?” he prompted nonverbally, not trusting himself to not start over-explaining why he’d been holding Frisk’s hand. He thought that was probably clear enough to her already.

“Fairchild has brought something to my attention,” she began, her tone thoughtful as she moved onto the next lamp, “about the cellar. They’ve informed me that it is unusually high in magical activity compared to the rest of the Home. They say that it feels similar to being inside the mountain. So, though I’ve had the extra space already cleared in the cellar for you, I’d like to know your thoughts on this before we proceed.”

“Hm,” Sans grunted, giving his temple an absent scratch. He thought back to being in the cellar—the creeping damp, the barely restrained whispers, the darkness overwhelming. Oh, yes, he would definitely say it reminded him of home. So much so that he hadn’t even noticed until it was pointed out to him. 

That certainly helped explain some of his jitters and restless pacing when he’d guarded Alphys and Undyne. It also made sense now, why Papyrus had told him he needed to stay with him ‘for his own good’ after a while. “Now that I think about it, it does.”

The matron just nodded, her face resigned. “I was afraid of that.” She sighed under her breath before finishing the last lamp and turning back to him. “I will do my best to put better protections in place, but there’s no guarantee they’ll take. The stones down there, they…” she trailed off, her eyes drifting away in thought. She snapped back after a few moments. “Well, never mind. If the protections don’t take, and it becomes too difficult to maintain the three of you while housed down below, there are always other options.”

“I’m not sure the constable will agree to renting the use of his jail to help some monsters, Matron,” Sans said with a lopsided grin.

Surprisingly, the matron’s smile was somewhat troubled. “Yes, well. If the conversations I’ve had with the man are any indication, then I’m not sure how much longer he’ll have a say in anything I might do, really,” she said, her tone suggesting she was speaking more to herself than to him. 

Sans’s smile fell immediately, his memory providing him not-so-helpfully with the picture of humans who had been overcome by the madness. He did some quick mental arithmetic and came to the conclusion that it was, in fact, just around that time. He held back a grimace, wondering if he should let Frisk know or not. She’d seemed to be particularly fond of the man. Perhaps not knowing would be a kind of mercy.

The matron gave a sudden stiff shake of the head and her eyes sharpened once more, bringing Sans back to the present. “No, I was thinking of something closer to home—the bell tower, in fact.”

Sans’s brows raised. “Would that be a good idea? It’s not exactly enclosed and when the compulsion hits…” Sans trailed off meaningfully. The matron nodded. “But if you think the noise wouldn’t carry too far, and it would be safe enough, then I don’t have any objection. Where I’m housed will be the last thing on my mind when it comes.”

“Excellent. Then I’ll make the arrangements. While you’re getting settled today, Frisk will be training up the replacement guards so that she may alternate her duties with looking after you and our guests.”

“Replacements?” he asked, surprised. “How much did you have to pay to get someone out here on such quick notice?”

The matron quirked a smile, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, no, son, it isn’t someone from the city. I’ve asked a few of my hardier sisters to help patrol, while the others share out the charges they were caring for.” She paused, then laughed. “They’re all a cracking shot, as well. I dare say Frisk won’t have much to do to prepare them other than showing them where the hunting rifles are locked away.”

That got a smile out of him.

“In any case, I will be asking Papyrus to go on a guard rota, as well, while he is not guarding the three of you,” the matron said, a strand of her hair falling from her bun even as she attempted to smooth another away. “I hope this is acceptable for you, as I simply don’t have the luxury of keeping him cloistered away as well for as long as it takes you to fight this. We’re barely holding back the tide as it is.”

Sans opened his mouth to respond that he wasn’t exactly happy that his brother would be patrolling without him, possibly putting himself in danger without someone watching his back, but Papyrus’s voice cut him off from the door behind them.

“He’ll be fine,” his brother said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sans is my brother, after all. If I could do it alone, he can too.”

Sans glanced back at Papyrus with a tight smile, pushing away the doubt that fought to rise to the surface at the word ‘brother.’ “Thanks, ‘Pyrus,” he mumbled, trying to ignore the fact that he’d almost run away the night before at the thought of doing this. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Papyrus said brightly, though it seemed somewhat forced to Sans. It was obvious that neither of them wanted to admit the very real possibility of Sans’s failure.

“That’s the spirit, lads,” the matron said, before her eyes slid over to where Frisk had come up behind Papyrus. “Good morning, child. All rested up?”

Frisk nodded, though Sans knew she hadn’t slept at all after she’d taken Chara back. Not for the first time, he felt a stab of anger for the damage the god did to everyone they touched. But instead of dwelling in it, this time he simply pushed it aside to focus on what Frisk had said the night before. The benefits to having them as an ally far outweighed the negatives. As well, Frisk was clearly used to not sleeping; she somehow managed to derive energy from simple rest.

He had to trust her judgment.

“Yes, I’m just going to throw on my coat and go on a quick patrol before breakfast,” Frisk said, reaching down to snatch up her duster from the chair beside the door and shrugging into it. “When will you need me back for?”

“Just after breakfast will be fine, thank you. The sisters will have finished their morning duties by then, I’d imagine,” the matron said.

“Alright,” Frisk said mostly to herself before wrapping a scarf around her neck and hunkering down into it. Her eyes flicked over to Sans’s only briefly before she said, “We’ll come down after dinner.”

Sans could only manage a short, stiff nod in response, though his body was quickly warming at the thought. Whether because he dreaded the embarrassment of Frisk seeing him locked up like a lunatic or excitement that she wanted to help him despite that, he couldn’t tell. Frisk nodded back with a tiny, secret smile before giving Papyrus a quick kiss and turning to leave.

“Ah, Frisk,” Matron called gently, stopping the woman in her tracks. She looked back over her shoulder curiously. “Take one of the guns, will you?” Frisk’s eyes widened marginally for a split second before her face relaxed again. “One can never be too careful so late into a Blood Cycle.”

“Yes, Mother,” Frisk agreed, giving a small dip of her head in acknowledgment before turning to leave once more. The three of them watched her disappear in the direction of the office before Papyrus asked,

“Should I go with her, Matron?”

The matron seemed pleased that he’d offered, but shook her head nonetheless. “Let her have some time to herself. She’ll be well protected within the grounds.”

Sans wasn’t so sure about that, but he couldn’t let himself think about it at the moment. Soon enough, he wouldn’t be able to watch over Frisk or Papyrus. He’d have to simply trust in their ability to take care of themselves.

It scared the hell out of him.

Papyrus didn’t seem fully comfortable letting Frisk go alone, either, but he eventually turned away from where she’d left, his eyes alighting on Sans’s. “Come on then, brother, let’s get you quarantined.”

Sans took a deep breath, looking between Papyrus and the matron. There was a part of him that wanted to laugh the whole thing off and tell them he’d changed his mind. Tell them he wasn’t actually ready to do this. Tell them he was just fine with how things were, that he’d be okay. But he just managed to shove the words back down as they threatened to rise out of him, and finally he exhaled in a rush, saying, “Yeah, okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

With an encouraging clap on the back from both the matron and Papyrus, the three of them made their way to the cellar once more. Sans hesitated at the entrance, his hand gripping the door nearly hard enough to splinter it, but he eventually pushed himself inside, having to bend right down to fit inside. 

They all descended down into the darkness, where he was immediately faced with another open door on the other side of Undyne’s makeshift cell. He took his time waiting for the matron and Papyrus to draw level with him to steel himself, his hands clenched at his sides. At the significant look from the matron, Sans nodded, his magic roiling sickeningly inside his chest as he shrugged out of his coat. He handed it over to Papyrus, who took it with another quick squeeze of Sans’s shoulder.

“Are you prepared?” the matron asked, reaching inside the pockets of her robe to withdraw the strange tin she seemed to carry on her at all times.

Sans could only nod, not trusting himself to speak.

“Then let’s begin.”

Sans held completely still as the matron dipped her fingertip in the herbal concoction in the tin and reached up to his forehead to draw her runes. He had to grit his jaw as she continued to apply the runes elsewhere, as the longer the paste was in contact with his bones, the more it burned. 

By the time she demanded, “Chest, please,” in her curt tone, the runes felt as though they were each white-hot brands being held permanently against him. He was ashamed to find that his hands trembled as he yanked down his vest’s neck to expose his chest plate for her. She didn’t seem to notice, but the bony hand on the middle of his spine told him that Papyrus had.

“You’ll be fine,” his brother murmured near his ear. “It’ll get easier, I promise.”

Sans’s teeth ground together hard enough to squeak as he could only grunt in response.

“Quiet, now, boys,” the matron admonished not unkindly, and Papyrus’s soothing hand stilled. With one more stroke to finish off the rune at his chest, the matron stepped back, clicking the tin shut once more. Her eyes swept over him once, inspecting her handiwork, before she nodded and gestured him towards the makeshift cell. “Help him inside, now, please, Papyrus.”

Papyrus did so, guiding Sans into the cell with surprising gentleness. Another surprise for him was the sight of the leather shackles trailing from the corners of the floor. They hadn’t installed manacles for Undyne or Alphys. But before he could bristle at the unfairness of it, a small voice deep inside his soul chuckled and whispered that he already knew why they’d only done it for  _ him _ .

And that was enough for him to voluntarily reach out and clasp himself inside the shackles without hesitation.   

When he turned back around, he saw the matron standing at the entrance to his cell, watching him with her penetrating gaze, the greenness of those eyes seeming to almost shine in the dark.

“Be ready.”

There was no other warning for Sans before she spoke a word that exploded in his ears, pinning his whole body down with a primal fear. He gasped for air breathlessly, his soul immediately bursting into a bone-searing heat. He could barely see through red-stained eyes as the door to the cell was closed, a lock clicking into place on the other side.

Until Frisk arrived that evening, Sans knew nothing but pain.

At first he held onto his pride, standing deathly still as he retreated into his mind, silently repeating Papyrus’s words until they became a mantra. But after an eternity of choking for air to cool his burning body, his consciousness drifting in and out as his soul began shutting down senses out of self-preservation, and bone-shaking waves of laughter slamming against the inside of his skull, he had nothing left to cling to. 

He had collapsed to the floor at some point, but he could not bring himself to move from his sprawling position. It seemed he could barely hold the bones of his body together, much less get them to function.

He stopped telling himself it would get better.

He simply began counting down the seconds.

He knew the exact moment that Frisk arrived, because she brought with her a blanket of relief, a soothing calm that trickled over the surface of him and quieted the screams of his magic and the Other. He came back to himself in that split second, drawing deep to pull his bones up and sit back against the wall at the same moment that Frisk’s smooth, soft voice drifted through the door.

“Sans?”

It took him more than just one moment to remember how to talk, though. He cycled from magic to hands before finally landing on words. Oh, God. There were too many words to choose from. He didn’t know which ones were right.

He settled on a single, questioning grunt that he hoped wasn’t too gruff.

It didn’t seem to bother Frisk any, as she simply responded with, “How are you doing?”

Before he could fully spiral into panic over having to answer with more than nonverbal sounds, she continued.

“Was it very bad?”

Now, that he could answer. Yes and no were easy. No confusion involved.

_ Was  _ it very bad?

Yes, absolutely.

Should he tell her that?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

**_No._ **

“No.”  

He was pleased with how steady his voice was. No use worrying her over nothing. And it wasn’t as though it was completely a lie. Anything that he survived through without loss of limb or soul  _ wasn’t  _ very bad, in his eyes. It was only horrifying, and he’d lived through plenty of that.

There was a long, heavy pause from the other side of the door.

He wondered if she was talking to Chara.

**_Of course she is._ **

Of course she was.

“Are…are you  _ sure  _ you’re alright?”

No.

_**Yes.** _

“Yes.”   

He flinched, wishing he could scrape the laughter from the inside and outside of his skull, jellied and thick and harsh, like acid residue eating away at him. But it was no use, with how his arms were held apart.

The metal links rattled as he attempted to, anyway.

“I—”

Frisk’s voice was unsure of itself, and further away. Was she leaving?

Please, don’t leave.

There was a long silence.

And then a sigh.

It echoed inside his skull, dragging, pulling on and on and on until it sounded like a scream.

His body trembled as the screaming laughter pounded against his eyes, pulsing in a deliberate, unnerving rhythm. It sounded like anger, like wrath, like prideful disapproval.

Something trailed down his face.

It didn’t feel like tears.

“I’m sorry I’m just talking through the door.” Another huff, another sigh, another flash of red pressing,  _ pressing  _ against his eyes. “Both Papyrus and the matron won’t let me open it. They say—they say it’s for your sake. Although…”

Seconds became moments became longer and she didn’t finish her thought.

His face burned and itched.

He turned his mind away from the name, refusing to think on it.

He wanted to tear at the magic holding his head onto his body until it  _ popped  _ right off.

“Anyway, I brought you some food. I…I suppose I’ll just leave it out here. Papyrus said he can give it to you later, if you want it. It isn’t much, but I know you’ll need your…”

She continued speaking.

He couldn’t continue not thinking.

Papyrus…  

**_Papyrus…_ **

“…if there’s anything else you need, just let us—”

Papyrus papyrus papyrus paPYRUS PAPYRUS PAPYRUS PAPYRUS PAPRYUSPAPYRUS _ PAPYRUSPAPYRUSPAPYRUSPAPYRU  _ **_SPAPYRUSPAPYRUSPAPYRUS_ **

**_P          A                P          Y         R            U                    S        S          S          S          S              S            S_ **

“Frisk,” his voice was saying, was interrupting, was oozing from his teeth with little regard for his desires, “is Papyrus here with you now?”

No, no, no, no

“Hm? Yes. Would you like to speak with him?”

NO NO NO

“Yes, please. You don’t have to stay any longer. I know how horrible it must be for you down here. Could you ask Papyrus to come bring me the food on your way out?”

A long silence.

Long, long, long silence.

Please don’t go.

Please, Frisk.

Please understand

**_She’ll never understand._ **

**_She’ll always leave you._ **

**_I’m the only one who will be with you forever._ **

“I…don’t know if…er. Er…alright.”

A shuffling of boots against stone, the  _ snk snk  _ clatter of heels stepping away.

Whispers between two lovers.

The smell of her.

Then…nothing.

She was gone.

The weight of fighting against it dropped onto his bones like carrying a body that was no longer buoyed by water. He was clattering with the urgency of it.

“Sans? It’s me.”

Oh, God, Papyrus, why?

Surely, of all people to hear it…

“Hello, Papyrus,” his voice said, silky and slimy and utterly alien. “Thank you for coming to see me. I’ve had a hard day today. You can bring me my food now.”

“I know you have, Sans. I know you’ve had a hard day,” Papyrus said, the compassion in his voice breaking Sans’s heart. “Which is why I’m not going to be opening this door.”

The laughter paused for a lightning-fast moment before stuttering back to life, building to a clatter, then a hum, then a roar. “ **_You always were a stubborn child, Papyrus_ ** !  **_But remember, in the end, I always came out the victor_ ** .”

The heaviness in the room was crushing Sans, making him slump further down onto the floor even as his voice spoke.

“Not this time.”

The wave of relief that crashed over Sans at Papyrus’s words was one of the last things he felt before another shouted command brought back the pain and blinded his world once more.

He knew nothing else for a very long time.

~

On the second day, Papyrus realised that as long as Sans was being kept in the cellar, he would never be free.

As soon as he had reassured Frisk that yes, of course he could tell that his brother had lost control of himself, and that yes, it  _ would  _ be better if she wasn’t there to see him like this, and yes, he would be safe without her there while he took care of Sans, he had settled himself in for a long night. He knew it would make no difference to his brother if he kept the cell door open now, so he did so just to make it easier to watch over him. 

It killed him to see Sans struggling so hard with the purification, but it had to be done. Papyrus knew that it never would have been easy for him. The Master had his favourite toys, and Sans was near the top. So while it wasn’t unexpected to hear the wails and see Sans twisting himself into unnatural positions with the pain, it still bothered him.

Papyrus never approached, though.

He might hate it with all his soul…

But he wasn’t reckless.

Anymore, at least.

As Papyrus watched Sans fighting against the claws of his slavery, his own fuzzy memories of purification drifted to mind unbidden.

They were…uncomfortable, to say the least.

As self-aware as he could be now, he knew that it hadn’t been so long ago that he’d been drowning in his own self-importance, letting his status as the Master’s personal guard swell his head. It had only been because of his outrageously overblown ego that he’d been given the opportunity to free himself, though, so mostly he couldn’t be sorry for it. 

It had taken dust on his clothes and blood in his mouth and screams echoing through his mind to wake him up from his stupor back then, but still. He’d accepted the opportunity. Had accepted the disgust and the exile and used them to shape himself into something better.

Before the exile, he’d felt strong enough to move mountains, with the false love of the Master bringing him so close to every monster while at the same time whispering directly to his soul that he was  _ better  _ than them.

It wasn’t until he was all alone in the ruins, crushed by the terrible empty darkness, that he could feel the truth in his soul.

He began to…remember.

Remember…a time before.

Even after the memories of the ruins had seeped back into him, it still took an enormous effort to convince himself that he wouldn’t die if he were to stop drinking the manna and try to be free. He finally worked up enough courage, after a very long time, to simply take his manna with him to the beginning of the ruins. Sans had barely noticed, he now realised, though at the time he’d nearly vomited all the magic from his body with the fear that his brother would comment on it. 

And so he’d ended up facing down the tiny, unassuming vial of liquid sitting in front of the patch of dead golden flowers, all torn from the ground in one of his fits of rage. He’d paced and growled and screamed and scraped at his bones for days and days and days, scarring and disfiguring himself all while his eyes refused to look away from that blood-and-sunset-coloured vial.

After the first week, he’d smashed it to bits with one roaring stomp of his marrow-soaked boot.

It had taken over two months, in the end.

He’d stayed away from Sans that first week, deliberately causing a fight so that his brother wouldn’t question why he’d left so suddenly and stayed away so long. They’d done that before, so Papyrus had known it would work. Despite Sans’s quick temper, it was surprisingly difficult to properly anger him, but once you had, he stayed that way for a very long time.

Papyrus felt a strange sense of comfort at the thought. It was good to know that despite everything, they were still similar monsters.

After the first week, though, he’d returned in the evenings to the home they’d moved to after his exile. All through those months, he’d had to hide the crawling terror and ugly scars he’d given himself, telling Sans that he was simply taking the exile worse than he thought he would. That had seemed to mollify his brother, though Papyrus sometimes caught him watching him curiously when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. 

Papyrus knew he’d wanted to ask what had happened. 

But he just couldn’t. 

He couldn’t risk talking to Sans about it just then. 

Neither of them were safe, really, but now that he’d had his eyes opened, Papyrus could see just how tightly grasped the Master had Sans. It was in the way his brother walked, stiff and uncomfortable like a puppet without strings, and the way his eyes glazed over when he thought no one was watching, looking off into the middle distance with the face of a man who was living through hell and was no longer the same person he’d been before. Even the way he spoke now, short and sharp and so,  _ so  _ familiar. Gone were the distant, faded memories of a brother who laughed and smiled with him over the simplest of things.

And so Papyrus kept it all quiet, telling himself that eventually—when the time was right—he would tell Sans, and would help his brother do the same, and they would both save the Underground from the prison everyone had so happily locked themselves in.

Of course, none of that had gone to plan as soon as Alphys had wandered through the ruins to find him one day and had greeted him simply with the fact that she knew he wasn’t taking the manna anymore, and wanted to know where it was and how he’d done it.

He’d been utterly terrified in that moment, his soul bursting with the need to attack first and think second. Thankfully, he’d managed to keep himself together long enough that Alphys had explained herself further, seeming to understand without words that he was very close to acting rashly. 

She’d said that Undyne had volunteered to test an experiment of hers and it had gone horribly awry. She’d been attempting to perfect a synthetic form of manna to help bolster the weaker monsters so that they could also perform the ritual duties during the upcoming Blood Cycle, but until then she hadn’t known what specific attribute was giving the monsters their increased powers. Even with her extended sight and knowledge, the formula had been cloudy. That was, until she’d stolen some of the tributes from the Birthing Room and had performed extensive tests on them and their progeny.

It turned out, she’d told him back then, that humans all seemed to have the ability to change the world around them in a very interesting way.

An almost  _ godly  _ way.

She’d called it Determination.

Well, she’d told him in a quiet stammer, how was she to know the effect it could have on monsters in unfiltered doses?

She’d asked the Master for manna to save Undyne, to bring her back from the brink.

The only response had been silence.

Utter, soul-crushing silence.

So, she’d said all those years ago, though she was aware that defying the Master even in secret would likely result in a fate worse than death—what choice did she have? If Undyne dusted, so would she. Since either option was a death sentence, she’d decided to act on the knowledge she’d gained from her spying, and come to him for help.

And even though he’d desperately wished he could flat-out refuse to help her or Undyne, the part of him that remembered, now…

It hadn’t taken long for the pure, rawest form of manna that Papyrus was entitled to to work its magic on Undyne’s twisted form, now partially fused with the armour she’d been wearing. Her body had sloughed off the parts of her that no longer functioned because of the Determination’s corruption and had simply taken on the armour as the new limbs, the dust settling heavy on the lab table as Alphys worked tirelessly to keep her soul-mate alive.

The Undyne that emerged from the other end had not been the same person—now strangely quiet and with the desperate loyalty to the Master as a favoured hound would hold in its heart. Alphys had later thanked Papyrus despite this, telling him that it was likely simply an aftereffect of the strength of the manna. She also told him that she would begin to pump a massively diluted form of manna mixed with her own failed synthesis to try to combat Undyne’s new behaviour as well as the pain the transplant had caused. Meanwhile, she would be considering his words on how he’d gotten himself free, and would contact him when she’d succeeded in rehabilitating Undyne enough to begin the process.

It had been a very long time before he’d heard from her again, and even then it had only been a note slipped under the door of the ruins, saying that she was going to start just before the coming Blood Cycle, with or without Undyne.

It was a strangely proud moment for him, he thought as he glanced over to the other closed doors in the cellar. He’d never really been a help to anyone like that before. That had been Sans’s business before…well, before everything. Never him. So for him to now be at the forefront of the ‘resistance,’ as it was, was a very odd moment of self-realisation for him.

He’d never  _ intended  _ any of this.

He simply couldn’t bear the thought of being the person he used to be anymore.

Which was why, even though now Frisk’s friend was also  _ his  _ friend, too, he wouldn’t be taking any chances with his brother.

He wasn’t going back to that place.

And he would be damned if his brother would, either.

“He’ll end up dusting himself if he keeps that up, you know.”

Papyrus startled, torn from his reverie by Alphys’s voice.

“You’re going to have to move him out of the cellar.”

Papyrus’s brows twisted with confusion. “Why?” he asked hesitantly, knowing he wasn’t meant to be talking to the others, but too curious not to. The matron would just have to forgive him later.

There was a short laugh. “Are y-you telling me you don’t feel—thhh-thhhaaat?”

Papyrus stood, his shoulders hunched as he went to Alphys’s door, his nerves jangling. “F-feel what?”

“The Master.”

Papyrus took a moment to search his soul and his immediate surroundings with his magic. Well, yes, there was  _ something  _ that felt a lot like the Master nearby, but wasn’t that just his brother?

He said as much.

Alphys just laughed, the manic sound clashing against Sans’s screams.

Before he could demand that she tell him what was so funny, another voice joined the conversation, from behind the remaining door. It was rough, and deep, and very, very tired, and yet it was still much clearer than Papyrus had heard Undyne sound in a long time.

“The Master…is right below us.”

Suddenly, with those words, everything clicked into place in Papyrus’s mind. Frisk’s intense dislike of the place, their friend’s desperate warding of the area, and Sans’s extreme reactions, growing ever more alarming the longer he stayed.

_ The Master was right below them _ .

Before he could stop himself, he was scuttling onto the wall with disgust, unable to stop from imagining the Master’s hands reaching for his feet through the floor. He stayed there long enough to calm his panic down below a wail before he could talk himself back down to the floor. He had to take large, gulping breaths while he did so, but he managed. He stood there, his bones clattering together with the force of his magic attempting to lash out at the perceived threat until he convinced himself that if the Master was going to—or able to—take him by force, then it would have already happened.

Alphys was no longer laughing, by the time he calmed down.

What should he do?

Should he go tell the matron? She already knew how hard Sans was taking the purification—she was the one who’d reactivated the runes she’d placed on all three of them, and it wasn’t as if Alphys and Undyne were screaming to be set free. So she knew, but she didn’t care?

Was she trying to kill his brother?

No. Just as quickly as the question had come to mind, it was answered. No, there was no sense in the matron  _ trying  _ to kill his brother. If she wanted to, she could have done it a dozen times over, just that week.

So why was she allowing this?

Maybe she  _ didn’t  _ know.

No, she  _ definitely  _ knew—hadn’t she been the one to mention to Sans about the possibility they’d have to move to the bell tower? She wouldn’t have mentioned it if she hadn’t already suspected something was wrong with the location.

Was it for his brother’s benefit, somehow?

Was it better for him to battle so desperately against the Master here, instead of further away from the reach of the beast?

Papyrus couldn’t understand how that could be so.

Surely if they could take away his pain—or some of it, at least—then they  _ should _ .

They were already planning to give Alphys and Undyne the mark of his friend the next morning, if the purification had worked. Should they give it to Sans at the same time, just to help him get through the worst of it?

For that matter,  _ had  _ the purification worked on them?

Papyrus stopped his frantic pacing, swinging around to the other doors.

“Al-Alphysss, d-d-did the r-ru-rr-rruuuu—” he cut himself off, taking another few gulps of stale air. He needed to calm down. It would do no one any good if he began panicking. “D-did the rrrunes worrrk?” he finally managed to get out, his voice thin with worry.

“W-well, yes,” Alphys said, sounding surprised that he’d asked. There was a long pause that did nothing to stop Papyrus’s soul from sinking with dread. “O-oh! You mean, b-because we’re not…not like S-Sans.” There was a few crackles and croaks of laughter. “What did you expect? F-for us to be wailing and gnashing our teeth as w-well? Yes, it hurts, but we aren’t s-s-ssso cl-close to the—the—”

“Even Undyne?” he asked curiously when Alphys got caught on the word, turning to Undyne’s door as if he could speak directly to her.

“Why don’t you open this door and see for yourself?” came Undyne’s darkly amused response.

Well, that had to be a good sign. Undyne hadn’t made a joke in what felt like a century.

Maybe it  _ had  _ been a century.

Time meant little to Papyrus anymore.

That was, of course, assuming it had been a joke at all.

“Even Undyne,” Alphys said with a hint of reproach in her voice.

“Hm,” was all Papyrus had to say to that.

He had to think.

And watch.

So despite the matron’s warning—and his own better judgment—he opened the door to Sans’s cell, settling back in a chair just at the entrance.

Sans made no indication that he was aware of his brother’s presence, but that did little to comfort him. If anything, it alarmed him even more.

But he had to push that aside for Sans. He had to help his brother get through this. Or, failing that, he had to get his brother some help as fast as possible.

So he sat, and he watched, and he waited.

And when the rune’s power began to fade again, he was there to talk Sans through it.

And if his brother hurt him by screaming at him that just because Papyrus could do it didn’t mean he was strong enough, because they  _ weren’t brothers _ , he certainly didn’t let Sans know that.

And when his friend passed through softly at some point in the night, easing the pain and hurt in his soul, he still remembered to thank them, though it made him shudder with panic to think of the numbness that came with a god’s influence.

And when Frisk came to relieve him, he simply asked her to cover for him for his other guard duties, as this was something she wouldn’t be able to handle.

The kiss they shared brought him somewhat back from the hollow, dreading place he’d been since Undyne’s reveal the night before.

But the look in her eyes told him she knew exactly what was wrong, and that she alone couldn’t fix it.

Papyrus knew she was going to tell the matron about Sans.

He didn’t stop her.

Because by the end of the second night, Sans was no longer screaming. He was simply staring ahead into Papyrus’s eyes with a pain in them that he knew well. It was the pain of inevitability, of creeping loss, of fading hope.

That was when it finally occurred to Papyrus that Sans might not survive this.

But as the sun rose on the second day, Papyrus swore that that would only happen over his own dusted bones.

“Papyrus…” The ragged whisper finally came sometime later that same day.

Undyne and Alphys’s marks had already been administered, and they had been moved to the bell tower after collapsing, though he had hardly noticed. The matron had murmured to Papyrus as she left that a suitable bed for Sans had been moved already, and that it was up to him when—or if—to bring his brother up, as he was the only one who could manage him. He’d refused Frisk’s and his friend’s offer to ease Sans’s pain without marking him, when he saw how it made his brother flinch away.

“Please, just kill me. I can’t do this anymore.”

Papyrus watched over his brother as his eyelids drooped, following the slump of his body as he slowly crumpled to the floor, globs of red, viscous liquid dribbling from his eyes, his ribs, and between his teeth.

“I know, Sans.”

Papyrus waited until the last of the manna had sunk into cracks of the floor and disappeared into the earth below.

“I know.”

~

  
  


On the third day, Sans knew nothing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: days 4 and 5
> 
> You could go to five or six tumblrs, or...
> 
> just one.
> 
> -jumps into karate kid pose-
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+ just to be safe)


	37. Purification Days 4 and 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth and fifth days of purification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! The other two parts were already done. Next one going up soon.

On the fourth day, Undyne knew just how lucky the three of them—her, Alphys, and Sans—were, to still be alive.

She woke up suddenly, as she always had. Though, for once, it was not to the raucous and overwhelming need to descend further into the mountain until she lost herself to the Master. Or from the screams of the past echoing through her memory in that space between waking and sleeping.

No, no.

Instead, she had woken up to the feeling of the rain misting on her face and the sight of the sun struggling to rise over the horizon.

And absolutely nothing else.

She stared with growing amazement for a few moments, before gingerly slipping her good arm out from under Alphys and placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She stood up, unable to stop herself from marveling at the sight of Alphys sleeping peacefully. For what felt like several lifetimes, her wife had slept fitfully, always thrashing out for something nebulous and unreachable. Undyne had always asked what she had been dreaming of, but Alphys mostly couldn’t respond.

There were some things, Undyne knew, that Alphys would never be able to explain to her, or any monster.

So to see her laying so softly on her cot, the new sun drifting across her beautiful, scarred face as she spread across both of their cots…

At that moment, Undyne knew that everything she had suffered through had been worth it.

Bending down to place another kiss on Alphys’s jaw, she straightened once more, turning to drag the shutters on the tall windows closed enough to keep the rain from bothering her wife. She would close them fully, but she found she couldn’t, when she stood before the sunrise. From her position, and her height, the raging moon was obscured enough that she could focus wholly on the sun, and only the sun.

It was breathtaking.

She had seen the sunrise more than a few times since the barrier fell, of course, but there had always been that niggling desire to return to the mountain at the back of her mind. Always gently distracting, always quietly turning her mind away from the beauty before her.

But now, there was none of that.

And so she stood, breathless with the wonder of it, as the sun rose in front of her, bathing her body with a warmth she hadn’t felt in so long.

The light seemed to reach into her soul and wash away the stains lingering there.

It felt like the true purification.

Undyne was immensely grateful to Sans—an emotion not particularly familiar to her—for waiting to speak until she released the breath she’d been holding.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

She took a few more moments to simply watch the sun partially disappear behind the thick clouds waiting overhead before she responded.

“Good morning, Sans. I see the runes have finally worked well enough for you to stop your endless screeching.”

There was a quiet laugh from behind her. “And good morning to you, too, Tin Man. I see _you’ve_ finally found a heart.”

She gave him a dry look over her shoulder, half-baring her fangs in a grimace.

He just laughed again.

She turned to him fully, arms crossed over her chest, the metal at her chest and arm clanking together. She had removed the excess pieces of her armour before receiving the new god’s mark, and she was feeling strangely naked without them. The day before, in the times between feverishly collapsing back to that dreamless sleep they’d been put in before, Alphys had removed some of the tubing as well, just to see how she fared. It seemed to have had no ill effect on her level of pain, but she wasn’t sure what would happen to her body if the synthesised manna stopped flowing through her body altogether. It had been risky enough to purify herself of the real thing at all, but Alphys’s pleas with her had been enough to break through the fog of the Master’s fearful influence. She’d agreed without another thought, though in the quiet of the night, she had been afraid of what might happen.

Despite being the Master’s slave for hundreds of years, and nearly an empty puppet for dozens of those years, she could still remember the feel of her body melting under the power of Determination.

But she was strong, and she would not let her soul-mate know how afraid she really was.

“How are you _really_ , then?” she asked Sans, her eyes narrowing as she regarded her former comrade.

Sans shrugged as best he could while his wrists were still bound to the bed’s posts by the leather shackles. Undyne had been surprised that the humans had had something like that prepared ahead of time, but by the small human’s uncomfortable look and the echo of laughter she felt from the new god, she figured it must have been for her. She wasn’t sure _why_ the human would have needed something like that, and frankly, she didn’t _want_ to know. She was simply glad for it, when she watched how Sans thrashed. Undyne knew probably better than anyone just how strong the skeleton monsters could be, when out of their minds.

She wouldn’t have been _sad_ , exactly, if she’d had to dust Sans, but it would have made Alphys upset, and that was the last thing she wanted.

There was also those strange echoes of memories that made her uncomfortable to think of, when she spoke with Papyrus.

But she was trying to push those back down where they belonged.

It would do no good to her, to remember a time before.

“Pretty good. Think the compulsion is mostly gone. Can’t tell you more than that, if I’m honest.”

Undyne’s eyes narrowed further. “Can’t, or won’t?”

Sans’s face shifted into a strangely familiar smile, and there came more of those pings of memories that sent shocks through her soul. “Probably a little of both. I still don’t trust you. You didn’t exactly choose to be on our side. To be free.”

“And you did?”

Sans seemed taken aback by her quick retort, though he hid it quick enough. “Yes?” he said, though it was definitely more question than statement.

Undyne smiled fiercely.

Sans’s smile faltered.

There was a long, tense moment between the two of them, where they both simply sized the other up, before Alphys’s body was wracked with coughs, shocking Undyne into turning her focus to her wife. She knelt down quickly, turning Alphys onto her side in case she began choking, and rubbed circles into her back. Her hand stilled, though, when the coughs cut off abruptly, and Alphys’s mouth turned up with the hint of a sly smile as she said,

“Are you two done swinging at each other, or should I start coughing again?”

There was a bubble of stunned silence before Sans broke out in loud laughter, while Undyne grimaced again.

“Good,” Alphys said when Undyne made no argument, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the cot. She shuddered with the cold, and Undyne quickly made to close the shutters fully, but was stopped by a hand on her arm. She looked back to see Alphys smiling. “No, don’t. The sun feels nice.”

Undyne looked out dubiously to see the sun poking weakly through the clouds before she gave a tiny shrug and settled back down next to Alphys, her shoulders hunching slightly. Sans continued laying down, though whether that was out of necessity or sheer laziness, Undyne couldn’t tell.

“So, Sans,” Alphys began, her face sharp with intent as she stared down Sans with empty sockets. Before she could continue, though, a knock came on the trapdoor followed by it being lifted. The small human— _Frisk_ , a shadowy whisper insisted in the back of her mind, at which she mentally flinched—came up through it, holding a large tray and looking worse for the wear. When she caught sight of the three of them awake and staring openly at her, though, she froze mid-climb, the plates rattling slightly on the tray.

“Er…hello. I mean, ah, good morning.”

Undyne looked to Sans to speak, but he had looked away at some point, his face frozen in a grimace.

Hm. So he didn’t like the hum— _Frisk_ —seeing him like this.

Undyne nearly laughed at the sight. She had watched him devour humans, tearing them limb from limb without a thought just to harvest a tiny bit more of their blood, but this one—this quiet, frail human— _this_ was the one that made him nervous. How did that make sense?

She got her answer only moments later when that same shadowy voice let out an echo of a laugh, startling her once more.

Ah. Right. That was why.

**No**.

Undyne had to clench her hands very tightly to her knees at the clear, definitely-not-whispered answer from the new god. She tensed, waiting for more from them, but it never came. She let herself relax again, immensely grateful, though she hated to admit it.

She wasn’t quite ready to hear another voice in her head just yet, she realised.

Especially when it sounded so close to the Master’s.

There was a twitch of interest from the shadow god before it left her entirely.

Thank the gods.

When Undyne focused on the room once more, she realised that everyone’s eyes were on her, now including Papyrus, who had evidently climbed up with Frisk. They all looked incredibly nervous, though none more than the human. Undyne found that she didn’t want to look away from the human anymore, suddenly nervous at the idea that she held more than just a whisper of the shadow god within her, and was perfectly fine.

It seemed…eerie, somehow.

Eerie and uncomfortable.

“What?” she asked gruffly, not even attempting to hide her sudden foul mood.

To her credit, the human didn’t even flinch, though her polite, but distant smile fell into a grimace. Papyrus made a sound much like he was clearing his throat, and Undyne spared him a glance, equal parts fascinated and disgusted. “Why are you making human sounds at me?”

Papyrus’s cheekbones—to Undyne’s utter surprise—lit up slowly from within, until his face was dusted with a soft red colour, though he still frowned deeply at her.

He was blushing?

Like a human.

Blushing.

… _Oh._

Oh, so it wasn’t just because of the new god.

They weren’t just following her around because of the compulsion.

“Oh, gods, you mean you two really _have_ —”

“ _Undyne_ ,” Alphys’s biting whisper cut her off, and she stopped herself from continuing. She simply looked between the three of them with wide eyes, giving her head a little shake.

It was almost unbelievable.

Those two, bonding with a human.

And not just any human.

_The_ human.

The Master’s chosen.

Undyne would have thought they would have learned, after what had happened last time.

She supposed that was why they were all there, wasn’t it?

To make sure it _didn’t_ happen again.

“Frisk was asking you if you wanted her to leave,” Papyrus provided, his tone clipped and nervous as he continued to frown at her.

Undyne’s brows pulled together. “What? Why would _I_ care if the human is here?”

There was a brief silence before the human herself spoke up. “You just seemed very…upset, when I arrived.”

Undyne blinked slowly. She hadn’t thought the human would have been astute enough to notice her discomfort. She certainly hadn’t been astute enough to notice Undyne following her for nearly a month, despite nearly being caught at the lake. Well, if she thought she would be able to use Undyne’s discomfort against her, she would be sorely surprised.

“And?”

The human looked taken aback by that, though she recovered quickly, her lips thinning. “And I don’t want to make you upset if I don’t have to. I know you didn’t exactly want— _this_ —and I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of forcing my company on you if it’s uncomfortable or upsetting for you. I think we all have better things to worry about than you losing your temper and trying to kill me for taking you away from your master.”

Undyne was surprised by the heat in the human’s voice. She’d heard her talking like that to Sans before, and to another human male, but she’d never thought in a thousand years that she would have seen a human with the gall to speak to _her_ like that.

Part of Undyne—the part that was capable of crushing human bones between her jaws—would have really liked to spear her where she stood.

But even she knew how bad of an idea that was, and so she swallowed that lump of pride like a bitter pill, and said,

“It’s…not that. I was just…startled by something.”

She’d hoped that would have been enough to satisfy, but at the same time, had known it was wishful thinking. When the only response she got was raised brows, she sighed roughly. “I just didn’t expect the new god to _talk_ to me.”

There was another brief moment of tension before it was broken by an utterly inappropriate snorting laugh from the human. Everyone’s eyes went to her once more, but she didn’t seem to take any notice as she broke down into full-blown laughter. Undyne frowned at first, not liking to be made a fool, but there was something very silly about the whole situation, and even she ended up cracking a smile while everyone broke into their own laughs. The tension drained from the room like water through a sieve, and through her laughter, the human managed to croak,

“Yes, you’ll find they tend to do that. They simply can’t help themselves, I think!”

It was another few moments before everyone pulled themselves together enough for Undyne to speak again, though she found it odd to be _smiled at_ by a human while doing so. “No, I meant—it was odd to hear their voice. I—the Master’s voice is very distinct, and—and I wasn’t prepared for the new god to sound so similar, so soon after escaping.” Undyne fought the urge to fidget— _fidget_ ! Undyne, the royal captain, _fidgeting_ in front of a human—and mentally grimaced at how broken her words were. Oh well. Things were different now, and she was starting to come to terms with that. She supposed it didn’t particularly matter if she didn’t speak with a commander’s voice up here.

She drew the line at apologising for her actions, though, even if the human’s smile had fallen away as quickly as it had come.

For that matter, so had everyone else’s.

Undyne frowned again. “ _What_? Why does everyone keep looking at me like that?”

“What do you mean, they sound similar?” the human asked, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a razor-sharp steel to her tone, though, that somehow got under Undyne’s skin and made her deeply uncomfortable. It sounded very…focused.

Nothing good came of a focused human.

“Sans and Papyrus never said anything about your master and my friend sounding similar.”

By the looks on Sans’ and Papyrus’s faces as the human looked over to them, Undyne was not the only one who was concerned about her intensity, either.

“I s-suppose I can see a sssimilarity, when it’s pointed out,” Papyrus stuttered, looking unsure and frankly sick.

Everyone turned to Sans, who looked as if he absolutely did not want to answer.

The only thing he would say was, “Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t.”

There was a tense, pregnant pause where it was clear that nobody wanted to ask the obvious question.

How could Undyne and the brothers have heard different voices from the same god?

“Well, o-of course they sound similar,” Alphys muttered, drawing Undyne’s eyes down to her absent, yet smiling face. “They _are_ siblings.”

It was so quiet that a feather dropping to the floor would have sounded like a cannon firing.

“Alphys?” Undyne asked, her voice embarrassingly high.

“O-oh dear,” Alphys finally said in a quiet, amused voice. “I thought you all knew!”

  


~

  


On the fifth day, Alphys knew that she would have to tell them everything she knew soon.

Thankfully, she’d been spared from having to think about it for too long the day before, since it had only taken Frisk a few minutes of stiff formality to finally excuse herself. She’d practically flown from the tower, leaving the rest of them to stare at the space she’d vacated with uneasy hearts.

Papyrus had shifted back and forth as though he’d like to follow her, but had eventually settled on the bed next to Sans instead. They’d all sat together quietly for a long while, each of them caught in their own minds, until Alphys had broken the silence by saying that she needed to get to work on removing the rest of Undyne’s surplus tubing.

She hadn’t missed the uncomfortable shifting from her wife, but she also knew that if she didn’t do it now, there would likely be no time later.

She had the feeling everything was about to become very interesting for everyone.

Normally, she asked for complete silence while she worked, but when Undyne had quietly—so quietly that even she had almost missed it—apologised to Papyrus halfway through the morning, she had felt none of the usual impulse to shush. She hadn’t stopped working, of course—being halfway through removing one of the last tubes was no time to stop and gawp at her wife. But she had had to keep her hands from trembling as she continued on, her whole world having been rocked just that tiny bit.

Undyne _never_ apologised.

Even when both of them knew just how wrong she was, she still found it impossible to admit to it.

So hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ coming from her mouth was practically tantamount to a deathbed confession for her.

Alphys had barely even heard Papyrus asking what she was sorry for, but she’d definitely heard Undyne respond that it was for her part in exiling Papyrus instead of trying to get him help for his addiction. That there wasn’t a lot of things Undyne regretted—she didn’t believe it was a useful response to mistakes—but that was one of them, and she was sorry.

It was times like this that Alphys desperately wished she wasn’t blind anymore, just so she could properly see the look on the brothers’ faces.

Alphys had had to force herself to pay attention to her work after that, scolding herself periodically when she lost her trains of thought to the antsy, anxious feeling on the edges of her mind. Somehow, Undyne’s apology had worked her unease into a full frenzy, and she was ready to crawl out of her skin and hide in the earth. It felt like a shifting—an anomaly—that spelled change bigger than anything they’d seen for centuries.

She managed—just—to finish up with Undyne as the sun crested toward the horizon, which gave her no excuse to deny Frisk’s request to speak to her in private. Undyne wasn’t happy, of course, but what could she do about it? What could any of them do about it?

At this point, if the human wanted any of them dead, they would be dust within seconds.

Not that it wasn’t better than the alternative—an alternative that Alphys _would not_ _be thinking about_.

No.

No, no.

Just focus on the human watching her while she stood uncomfortably close, the shadows crawling off of her shifting with a frenzied mania, while those that lay close to her heart were deathly still. They reminded Alphys of prey, of a hare in the eyes of the fox.

Oh, so that’s what this was about.

Well, there was no need to keep the human on edge about it—she didn’t know more than she’d already said.

Or, well…

She couldn’t understand more than she’d already said.

Or…

…no…

No.

She couldn’t understand.

She did know who could, though, and though the shadows trickling through her body were not happy to hear the thought, she still asked the question.

Why hadn’t the new god just told her what they’d seen in Alphys’s mind?

Unless—

Oh, of course.

Of course.

They couldn’t remember.

Or maybe they could?

And they just couldn’t understand, either.

Perhaps, even for another god, it wasn’t easy, understanding the language of the—

NO

NOOOO, no

Nono,

Not thinking about that.

What?

What was that hand on her shoulder? The soft sound, deep and soothing and rock-solid.

Oh, yes, the human.

Yes, yes, she was absolutely fine—or she would be, once that thought had stopped leaking from its box—and she was afraid she couldn’t help her anymore at the moment. Yes, of course she knew more, of course of course of course, she _had_ sacrificed so much for the knowledge, but what good was the knowledge when she couldn’t bear to look at it?

Yes…she would have to tell them all eventually.

She was painfully aware of that.

The thought never left her, even with the new god’s soothing shadows.

Though, the shadows hadn’t been too happy to stay, once they had strayed into her mind.

It didn’t bother her. She had gotten along fine without the numbing; she’d only needed the cleansing and the subsequent bandage the shadows had provided. She could manage after that, though perhaps not as well as Papyrus or Undyne could.

The Cycle had mercilessly taken much of her.

She didn’t regret it. Even if they ended up dust from the machinations of the Master—and yes, yes, oh definitely they were still being hunted, hadn’t she noticed what was growing on the walls outside her room? silly to imagine otherwise, really, though she could understand the lure of security—hadn’t she still managed to free her family? Wasn’t she still fighting for everyone’s freedom, even after everything? Even though they would hate her for it?

Yes, she was still fighting.

There was something poetic to her about their ignited Determination only after being cleansed of manna.

Poetic, and absolutely hilarious.

What? Oh, yes, yes, of course, it was probably time to go inside again, yes, those were definitely monsters creeping closer in the dark.

What? Metta? No, hah, no, he was still down in the mountain, working to keep what peace there could be after the loss of two more prominent monsters.

He was always good at public relations. He had a strangely powerful attraction around him, despite the fact that manna had no effect on his false body.

Yes, she knew that Frisk knew exactly how powerful that pull could be.

Though that had a little less to do with Metta’s aura than the simple fact that he was a monster.

It always happened that way.

Hm?

Why—hadn’t the matron spoken to her yet? That was certainly odd, she would have thought she would have given Frisk some warning—

Oh, well yes, that _was_ what she’d meant.

So if she _had_ told Frisk about being Called down to the mountain, why was she so surprised at the idea that monsters would be attracted to her, and vice versa?

Ah, right. Yes, well, that wasn’t all of it. Oh, dear. Yes, well, perhaps Alphys really ought to tell her, though what good it would do her now…

Yes, alright, no need to get so worked up, she was getting to the point.

Well, it was just surprising to Alphys that she hadn’t been told to be more wary, considering that she practically glowed like a beacon to any monster who had half an eye for it. Or, well, she knew what she meant. Frisk had been marked— _chosen for the hunt_ —and anyone who had tasted the Master’s influence would feel it.

Yes, she was sure quite a few things were making sense to Frisk now that she had the proper information.

Some of it, at least.

Ah, well, she wasn’t exactly one to debate the philosophy behind emotions—love or otherwise. She was a scientist. She needed to quantify things before she could speak with authority. She couldn’t say one way or another if the pull between Frisk and the brothers had fabricated the ties there, or if they had grown organically.

No, it _really_ wasn’t her place to say.

Did it matter, really?

Surely it was enough that she was feeling it in the first place.

Oh, well if it was really that important to her…

Perhaps she should speak to someone who knew her well enough to tell the difference.

Well, good, but before Frisk went, could Alphys perhaps get a sample of her blood, as promised? She’d like to get started on studying it.

Excellent.

Even if it came to nothing, at least it would give her something else to focus on that wasn’t the wriggling, malignant words steadily escaping from their prisons.

Alphys knew that she’d have to face it soon enough, but not yet.

She just needed a little more time.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: sixth and seventh.
> 
> -crooks hand, gets real close, whispers-  
> | ‾́︶ ‾́ |੭  
> It's tumblr real estate.
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+ to be safe)


	38. Purification Days 6 and 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last of the week, and of the third part of the story!  
> yes i'm aware i probably never told y'all when the end of the second part was
> 
> That's just the type of professional writer I am.
> 
> Another possible CW for the end of Sans's section, though I'm not entirely sure how to tag it. Abusive language. Vague description of unwanted touching. Was uncomfortable to write, so I thought I'd give a head's up for anyone who might want it.

On the sixth day, Sans knew that if he had to stay in that tower another day, he was going to die of boredom.

After having spent the last night and day by himself, he was ready to be _ done _ . He had told both the matron and Papyrus that he was  _ fine  _ now, that he didn’t need to stay in quarantine anymore. They had listened, and nodded, but had told him in not so many words that they didn’t believe him one bit. They’d left him chained up to that damned bed while Alphys and Undyne had been relocated to another part of the Home, where Alphys was now working. Papyrus hadn’t stayed that day, either, having been too busy with his guard duties to stay longer than a few minutes that morning—just long enough to give him his food for the day and tell him that he was doing really well.

And Frisk, well…

Sans was beginning to think Frisk was avoiding him entirely.

That was okay, though, because he was sure he’d have done the exact same, if he were her.

He still couldn’t stop it from stinging a little.

He’d eaten breakfast as slowly as possible just to pass the time, after Papyrus had left him all alone to his thoughts. But that had only made the sun inch across the sky, sluggish and reluctant. It seemed to struggle against the moon, which pulsed high and powerful above it. Something about the sight made Sans’s bones itch uncomfortably, so he just didn’t look.

He wished he could see more than just the sky out of the window, but the bed kept everything else just out of sight. He supposed if he got really bored, he could always try to break out of the shackles, or bend the bars of the bed until he could snap the legs away from the bolts keeping them in place. But he knew that would bring the matron and Papyrus up to him immediately, ready to knock him unconscious in a heartbeat, just to be safe.

So he put that aside with a sigh, shifting his hips into a more comfortable position on the hard bed, and tried to sleep the day away.

It was hours of steadily mounting anxious energy later that the thought finally got the best of him. He was almost ready to try to break free just to have some company when Frisk appeared in the trapdoor, as if summoned by his straying mind.

He scrambled to sit up, kicking one of the posts in his hurry. He winced to himself before meeting Frisk’s smiling eyes, the laugh there happier than it had been for over a week. The last week of the Cycle had obviously been difficult for her, though why Sans felt responsible for that, he didn’t know. None of what was happening was his fault.

Well.

_ Some  _ of it was his fault.

Though by the look on Frisk’s face at the moment, she certainly wasn’t blaming him for anything. As soon as she fully landed on the higher floor of the bell tower, she kicked the trapdoor closed behind her, her face lit up with excitement. He found himself sitting up to attention, already interested in what had happened to make her so excited.

“Sans, thank goodness you’re awake!” she said, turning to him with a wide, eager smile.

His soul fluttered weakly at the sight of her approaching with that happy, secretive look—as though he was about to share in something amazing that only the two of them knew about—before his magic shuddered and shrank away. His growing smile paused as he froze with confusion. Why had that happened? That had never happened before, even when he had been paranoid of being close to her.

He shook his head to clear his mind of the stray dark suspicions before saying, “I am. Why thank goodness?”

Frisk’s smile grew, though it took on a more mischievous tone. “I found something that I want to show you. Come on!” She crooked her hand toward her eagerly.

He smiled with hesitant confusion, his brows rising and meeting. “Uh,” he began, pointedly rattling the leather shackles holding him, “I’d love to, but I’m kind of tied up with something right now.”

Instead of the laugh he expected from his admittedly bad joke, a lightning-fast flash of rage crossed Frisk’s face before being replaced with that same smile. There was something off about it now, though, as though he’d briefly seen through the shiny pink skin of an apple to the rotten core beneath. He blinked and shook his head slightly once more, his own smile now frozen.

Was he having another regression and imagining things, or was Frisk truly acting this strange?

And if so, what had caused this odd shift?

It was times like this that he wished he’d just swallowed his pride and taken the help that Chara had offered. Undyne and Alphys had accepted—why had he made such a fuss about not taking their help unless it became absolutely necessary?

Unless it was Chara making Frisk act this way.

He had to stop. His mind was running away with itself, and Frisk was now giving him a strange look, because she had spoken and he hadn’t heard a word of it. He quickly asked her to repeat herself, and her smile shifted until he was slightly uncomfortable with how knowing she appeared.

“I  _ said _ , don’t worry about those. Just break them off and the matron will replace them later. It’s only one of the beds I use when I have a fit.”

His smile fell, and his discomfort rose. “Uh…I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, shifting away from her subtly when she stalked closer to him. Dammit, the thought that there was something off about her just  _ would not  _ leave him. He tried to ignore it, but it kept pressing to the front of his mind. “Papyrus doesn’t really want me to leave the tower, yet.”

“Sans,” Frisk said, her voice dropping just above a whisper as she leaned over him. “Forget about Papyrus.” His soul began to race with dread, and he had to work to keep his face empty of emotion.  _ Why  _ was his body reacting this way?

“Don’t you want to be with me?”

Wait.

Frisk’s smile widened even further—too wide, much too wide, she never smiled like that, never, never—and when she spoke, it barely sounded like her at all. “Or is it just that you’d rather stay in bed and do something else?”

Wait, why didn’t—why couldn’t he—

He couldn’t smell her.

She didn’t smell like Frisk.

_ It wasn’t Frisk _ .

His soul pounded against his ribs and chest like it was trying to escape as the not-Frisk reached its hand out to him. Before he could stop himself, he was shrinking away, which only made it laugh, the sound echoing in his skull with such familiarity. It sounded like rage, violence, terror—it sounded like—

The Master.

“ _ Don’t touch me _ !” he cried, but it was already too late. The Master was here, had found him, was touching him, reaching inside him, clawing at his soul. He screamed and thrashed, but the shackles held him fast. He tried to flex, to break, to tear them from the floor—anything, just to not feel the touch of the Master on his soul any more, choking him, drowning him—anything to no longer see the twisted approximation of Frisk’s face leering so close to his, filling his whole vision with its  _ wrongness _ .

“When will y _ ou understand that  _ **_I will_ **

**_never leave you_ **

**_I will tear them apart_ **

**_consume them_ **

**_make them mine_ **

**_Before I let you go_ **

**_Scatter their_ **

**_dust on the wind_ **

**_to the Void_ **

**_Slit her from ear to ear_ **

**_guts to gullet_ **

**_until she is nothing but MEAT_ **

**_FOR ME TO FORM_ **

**_AND MOLD_ **

**_UNTIL_ **

**_SHE_ **

**_IS_ **

**_ME_ **

**_DO YOU UNDERSTAND_ **

**_NOW_ **

**_YOU_ **

**_ARE_ **

**_M I N E_ **

**_M                  I              N              E_ **

 

**_M                                                                I                                                    N                                        E_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  


**_M                                               I                                                                                                N                                                                       E_ **

**_or_ **

**_they_ **

**_will_ **

**_die_ **

****

Sans screamed as hard as he could.

But…nobody…

No…body…

~

On the seventh day, you had no idea what was to come.

You had finally found time—more than a few minutes, at least—to spend with Sans. You’d been extremely busy keeping up with the sisters’ training at the same time as your own patrols. You felt guilty that you hadn’t managed to keep your promise that you would be with him the whole time, but you’d had no idea at the beginning that you would be run so ragged trying to keep up with the safety of the Home and its girls. 

You had managed to save more than a dozen girls from their own compulsions that week, no matter if it was actively running from the Home or if they had just gotten overwhelmed in their own minds and begun hurting themselves. You’d also managed to snap several city-dwellers out of their mindless clambering up the mountain, though you’d had to convince yourself it was worth your time. None of them had thanked you, even when you’d pointed out how close they’d come to death.

Good thing you weren’t doing it for gratitude.

All of this you’d done while being nearly fully cloaked in your friend’s shadows, to combat the pounding impulse to find Sans and Papyrus and—

Well, no matter how much you thought about it in the safety of your own mind, you knew that  _ actually  _ doing what you wanted was not the right thing to do at the moment. So your friend had offered to cloak you again as they had before, and you’d agreed without hesitation, though it required a lot more energy—and therefore blood—to maintain now. Consequently, you’d had to do a lot more hunting, in between everything else.

It had frankly exhausted you.

Which was why you had practically begged the matron to allow you to cover Papyrus from the tower by using a crossbow with tranquilising darts for the girls and regular bolts for anything else.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sans told you when you confessed on the morning of the seventh day of his quarantine. “I knew you weren’t going to have much time. It is the end of the Cycle, after all.”

Your eyes snapped over to where Sans relaxed against the metal bars of his headboard, his arms twisted a little behind him. You’d nearly forgotten about that, in the rush of everything else you’d been dealing with. It was a relief to be reminded, small mercy as it was. The Cycle might last another day or two, but it was unlikely. There had only been a handful of extended Cycles ever recorded. You would likely be seeing the colour impregnating the moon start draining away slowly later that day, until it was back to its usual state. It would take a little while longer for everyone to return to  _ their  _ usual selves, but it would happen eventually.

And then you could stop worrying about being  _ chosen  _ and  _ hunted  _ by the other god, which you still had no real idea why, despite needling everyone around you who might know, including your friend, Alphys, and even the matron.

But it was fine that no one could—or would—tell you the truth, you thought, ignoring the way your friend twitched away somewhat guiltily.

Because it was almost over.

You turned back to the window, releasing the heavy sigh that had built up in your chest. “Thank the Lord,” you muttered under your breath.

Sans snorted. “Has nothing to do with him.”

You rolled your eyes to yourself. “It’s just a saying, Sans.”

“So you aren’t religious after all? Then why all the supplication to God and his various disciples?”

You threw an unimpressed look over your shoulder before relaxing your side against the window and letting your crossbow hang loose. It was early, yet—the valley would likely be asleep for another couple of hours. Knowing that still didn’t keep the tension from your shoulders as you continued to survey the forest. Papyrus was out there, somewhere, patrolling. You hoped he was being safe.

You certainly didn’t feel safe, even up in the tower.

Somehow, knowing that the monsters that lurked in the forest crept ever closer, drawn in by whatever had marked you…

Well, it wasn’t  _ relaxing _ , to say the least.

“Why the sudden interest in philosophy, Sans?” you asked absently, eyes catching on the sight of a rabbit bounding through the edges of the woods. Your hand itched to raise the crossbow once more and attempt a shot, but you managed to keep yourself still.

**Theology** .

Hush.

“Kind of difficult not to be, when there are gods pulling our strings.”

**Does he think that’s what I’m doing by forcing his hand? Pulling his strings?**

That was a good question. You decided to pass it on.

“Is that  _ not  _ what they’re doing?” Sans asked, his eyes wide with surprise when you glanced back at him. “Could have fooled me. They’re acting so similar that it’s starting to confuse me.”

Though you were deeply curious about the rush of intense anger that flooded through you from your friend, you knew it was better to reassure them that they weren’t anything like the monsters’ master than to ask them  _ why  _ it was so enraging for them to be compared in the first place. You’d already interrogated them earlier, trying to get them to tell you exactly how they were related and  _ why  _ they hadn’t told you, but nothing had come of it. 

The only reason you had dropped it in the end was because they’d seemed just as panicked about it as you were, though they obviously dealt with it differently. Where you’d gone to the matron with what Alphys had said—both times—and had gotten reassurance for every faltering step of the way, your friend had clammed up and retreated to a deep part of your mind and soul, seemingly hiding away.

So you hadn’t pushed.

You knew more than anybody how difficult thinking about family could be.

“Shut it, Sans,” you sighed, “the last thing we need right now is sarcasm. Even if the Cycle is almost over, we still have to live together after.”

There was a choking sound from behind you, and you looked back with slight alarm before seeing that Sans had only doubled himself up with silent laughter before he let it loose, his guffaws deafening in the silence of the morning. You frowned.

“What’s so funny about us living together?”

Sans continued laughing, though he shook his head. You simply crossed your arms loosely over your chest, the crossbow digging into your hip as you watched him, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Not—not that,” he said as he slowly got himself under control. “Just that—just because I said we’re at the end of the Cycle, you think—you think it’s all going to be fine after? You think it’s going to be  _ over _ ? That we’ll all just get to live our lives here next to the mountain like some kind of goddamn  _ family  _ —”

“What is wrong with you?” you snapped, not pleased in the slightest with his patronising tone. Where was this coming from? You’d thought he’d been getting  _ better _ , not worse. Was he regressing? You knew it happened to most people who were fighting an addiction—it had certainly happened to you, after the hospital. You still regretted some of the things you’d said while you’d been insane with the need for the drugs they’d given you. When he only shook his head again, his laughs morphing into a pained grimace, your ire drained somewhat. You felt pity twist your face. “You could have told us you were still struggling.”

That sobered Sans up quickly. His eyes searched yours with a kind of desperation. “Am I? Struggling, I mean.”

Your head fell to the side as you regarded him. “How can you not know?”

Sans shook his head slowly, eyes wide and scared. “How  _ could  _ I know?”

After studying him for several long moments, you just nodded, hefting your crossbow higher and turning back to the world outside. “Tell me what happened.”

He did, after some hesitation, though it confused you even more than you’d been before. Your heart clenched with unease at his retelling, forcing you to take a deep breath through your nose before you could say, “Sans, that—that never happened.” You froze the instant the words left your mouth, and you threw a quick, panicked look over your shoulder at him, continuing before he could hopefully be hurt by that. “No, I didn’t mean that. I—I only meant that—I’m sorry that we didn’t come to check on you, but…we never heard your screams. As far as we knew, you were asleep the whole day.”

**I…I didn’t feel…I never felt…**

You knew. You knew they hadn’t felt anything amiss. They would have told you, had they had even the slightest inkling something was wrong.

**…**

You could feel the palpable silence in your mind, but they only shrank back into your mind, delicately brushing against the memories there without forcing them to the surface. You shivered at their odd behaviour, but focused instead on Sans, who looked haunted. You didn’t blame him one bit—there was nothing more terrible than someone telling you that the horrors you’d experienced hadn’t been real. You hoped he didn’t think you didn’t believe him.

You decided to reassure him, but that did little to alleviate the terror in his expression as he said,

“No, I—I believe you, Frisk—I-I—I  _ have to  _ believe you—but—but…”

You had to look away from the horrified, crestfallen look in his eyes, but as soon as you did, you wished you hadn’t.

While you had had your back turned, the sun had been steadily rising, seeming to have gained back the strength it had lost that week. You briefly took that as a good sign—that it was taking its rightful place where the moon had reigned. But instead of the weakening moon that should be disappearing from the sky, in its place was the same bloody moon, dripping malignance from its face as the sun edged closer and closer. As you watched with gut-clenching horror, the sun slid behind the moon, casting a blood-red darkness onto the earth as the sun lit the tendrils of its aureole, giving it the appearance of a—a—

A flower.

And underneath, their silhouetted shapes hunched and angry under the bleeding sun as they crested the hill toward the Home, was a group of humans led by a familiar figure.

Zachary.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: instinct takes over.
> 
> TUMBLR!!
> 
> t
> 
> U
> 
> m--PWERPOLE EXTENDRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+ just to be safe)


	39. Eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No control no control no control
> 
> not me not me not me not me not me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, just wanted to quickly say sorry for not getting the chance to respond to anyone's comments these past few chapters. I am reading every one of them and wishing I could respond, but there's been a lot going on stopping me. Thank you all for reading and taking the time out to leave me little notes. It makes it easier to keep this train going all the way to its final destination.
> 
> <333

“Frisk, what is it? Where are you going?” Sans asked, his voice panicked as he watched you dashing from the tower.

You almost ignored him, your blood boiling with the raging emotions that threatened to bubble over despite your friend’s scramble to keep you in check. It wasn’t working. You were taking shallow, quick breaths through your nose, your grip on your crossbow making the wood creak softly. You forced yourself to stop, both feet on the rungs of the ladder out of the tower, itching to take you flying from the Home.

“ _ Zachary _ ,” was all you managed to choke out, however much you tried to calm yourself.

The sisters were out there, patrolling without you.

_ Papyrus  _ was out there.

**He’s deep in the forest. He doesn’t know about them. I’ll go to him now, if it would comfort you.**

Yes. That—that would be for the best. Part of you knew just how bad of an idea it was for you to have to be without their heavy shadows constricting you, but if something happened to Papyrus because you were more worried about what you might do to Zachary…

**Right. Try not to get hurt. We’ll meet you halfway.**

When you heard Sans saying your name urgently, you snapped back to focusing on him. He was leaning forward in his restraints, his eyes blown wide and scared. “—have to let me out. Frisk, please, go get the matron or whatever you need to do. Just—don’t go out there by yourself.”

You started to hop back into the tower, fully ready to take your knife to the leather shackles, but stopped dead when his words flit across your mind again. Do whatever you had to do. Yes, because he was still in quarantine. In quarantine and possibly still possessed by his master, if what he had just told you had really happened.

You couldn’t risk it.

Shaking your head and saying, “Sorry, Sans, but I can’t take the chance that I’d have to fight you, too,” you quickly looked down to the ladder and descended without another word, trying to turn a deaf ear to Sans’s cries. They followed you all the way down, though, until you burst from the Home, your boots sinking into the earth with every hard, driving step. You allowed yourself to run free, the rage rising and spitting in your heart setting your pace as your breath came fast, the air cold and wet in your lungs. 

You desperately wanted to drop your weapon and gain even that tiny bit of speed, but even through your anger you could see how bad of an idea that was. You were very quickly approaching an entire group of people that, for all you knew, could be armed and extremely dangerous. You couldn’t let your desperation to keep Zachary away from the Home cloud your judgment and put you in further danger. You were already feeling extremely reckless—you had to take care, or you would end up doing something very stupid.

You just hoped Zachary had come to the same conclusion, otherwise it might not matter how level-headed you forced yourself to be.

“Zachary!” you bellowed as you dropped back into a heavy stride, both hands clutching the bow hard enough to bite into your skin. The group was still nearly a stadium’s length away, but you could tell that the group had heard you. Some of them hesitated only for a moment, while others stopped dead, quickly falling behind the others.

Zachary had not even flinched.

The two of you continued to advance on each other until you stopped mere meters away, though you had to physically press the balls of your feet into the soft earth to keep from charging ahead and smashing your fist into his smirking face. The rest of the group—seven or so men and women, by your quick tally—stopped several further meters back, clearly allowing Zachary to take the helm.

“Frisk, what a pleasant surprise! I must admit, it warms my heart to see you scampering eagerly to meet me.”

You clenched your teeth to swallow down some of your anger, but it still promised to spill over. “Yes, I’m sure it simply warms everyone’s heart here to see a single person come to defend against what requires a full cavalry of bullies to inflict upon us,” you bit out, sweeping your gaze across each and every person present, keeping their faces in mind for when the Cycle was over. Anyone who would agree to group up and storm the defenseless Home—even while under the influence of moon madness—was not someone who deserved to go unpunished.

You were satisfied to see most of them look away, shame written clearly on their faces.

The last one, though, made your breath catch until your rage nearly suffocated you.

“William?”

The man in question flinched hard, his cornflower-blue eyes begging for your forgiveness before you’d accused him of anything. You had to tear your gaze away from him or risk the hurt you felt at seeing him included in the mob dulling the edge of your fury. You couldn’t afford to hesitate, if it came to it—no matter who it was.

“Frisk, please, I—I had to come, please understand that I had to—”

“What are you apologising for, Will?” Zachary asked, cutting the other man off with his arrogant voice. “We’re here on a righteous mission to save our loved ones. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He jammed his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back onto the heels of his feet, his eyes manic and pleased, though the rest of him looked the worse for wear. His hair was long and lank, hanging in clumps around his ears and framing the deeply dark shadows around his eyes. His jaw was bruised underneath the layer of stubble—a deep, angry-looking colouring that continued down his neck and disappeared below his collar.

If it were any other person, you would feel sorry for them.

But it wasn’t any other person.

And you were tired of repeating yourself.

“Zachary, I’m going to tell you this once more, and  _ only  _ once. Do you understand?” You didn’t bother waiting for a response from the man—he was clearly too full of his own belief to listen to reason, but you had to try to stall for as long as possible to give your friend time to get Papyrus. 

“There will be no ‘mission’ carried out here today. I believe I’ve already told you everything I need to, Zachary, and yet you insist on disrespecting my—and Lilli’s—wishes.” You were rewarded with a brief flash of rage crossing Zachary’s face before it was covered once more with his eager self-confidence. 

You had the sudden image of digging your knife into his teeth until he could no longer give you that patronising smile. 

“You—all of you—are going to turn around and march directly back to where you came from. You are going to lock yourselves in your houses like any good law-abiding citizen would have done during this Cycle. And you are going to forget about the Home, and everyone in it.”

There was a brief silence, shock written on the group’s face at the unyielding venom in your voice, before one of the men scoffed in disbelief and said, “And what are you going to do about it? As you said, you’re just one person. You won’t possibly stop us all from rescuing our kidnapped families!”

A quiet murmur of assent rose up from the gathered crowd, growing in volume as it was passed from person to person.

Zachary’s smile grew.

“Firstly, for some reason you seem to be labouring under the impression that the Home has somehow caught and held your families against their will,” you began, pinning your gaze on Zachary, who seemed close to laughter. 

Your finger inched onto the crossbow’s trigger before you forced it back off. 

“I’ll just take a moment to clear that confusion up—no one in the Home is being held against their will. If one of yours has taken shelter here, it was not our hand that drove them to it. Secondly, if your family has gone missing and you have simply assumed they have taken shelter here—well. It’s not really my place to educate you on the facts of life under the shadow of the mountain, but I can tell you with great authority that there is a much more likely—and brutal—outcome than your family residing in the Home, safe under our care.”

You paused for a second to let your words sink in. Some of the people looked deathly stricken by your words, their faces draining of the heat of their conviction. Some of the people, however, looked ever more enraged.    

Just as one of the men took an aggressive step forward, his hand raised and his mouth open to speak, you continued by raising your crossbow to your shoulder and taking aim, saying,

“If you don’t turn and leave now—I won’t hesitate to shoot you down.”

“Frisk, no,” William gasped.

“You wouldn’t dare,” another called out from the back of the group. “You don’t have enough bolts to take us all!”

“No,” you said, your fury tamped down to a fine, focused point, aimed directly at Zachary’s heart. “But do any of you want to risk being one of those I do have enough bolts for?”

There was a silence tense enough to snap wood in half before a laugh rang out, high and wild. And then another, and another. Soon, Zachary had thrown his head back and let loose a torrent of unhinged laughter. Everyone else in the crowd looked to him nervously, their face betraying their true lack of conviction in their leader. Just as William reached out a hand to Zachary’s shoulder, he straightened and gasped out, “Oh, what fun! But really, there’s no need for all that huffing and bluster.” 

Still giggling, he shook his head and began taking long strides toward you. Before you could react—retreat or otherwise—he had closed the distance between you and grabbed your upper arm, wrenching the crossbow from your hands and tossing it aside. “Come now,  _ petit fleur _ , it’s time to go home.”

You froze, your heart stuttering before thudding once, hard.

“What did you say?”

**Frisk? We’re close. What’s happening?**

“I said it’s time for the charade to end, Fleur.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, staring wide-eyed up at the devilish, zealous look in Zachary’s eyes. “Don’t call me that.” Your heart was galloping in your chest, stricken with grief and a rage so pure and familiar that you were terrified of what your body might do. Your vision swam, and a woman’s voice whispered softly in your ear as she cradled you close, turning your face away from the horrible, messy reality, telling you that sometimes people became very sad, so very sad.

That sometimes this sadness made them do things they could not take back.

You tasted the blood on your teeth.

**Frisk! Talk to me! What’s wrong? Who is Fleur?**

You. You were her. Her mother’s sweet  _ petit fleur _ , all stained with the blood of someone else’s sadness and the hands of the men who stole the sweetness from her

You were not her

any

more

You were

you were…?

Frisk

You were Frisk who

who watched her from the shadows all twisting and angry until you folded yourself in them and became someone else again someone who was neither her nor frisk nor them just you just you just you with twitching hands and thudding heart who was tired who was exhausted of being claimed like a trunk filled with diamonds that turned up only false like a medal hanging from a prized racing horse like a toy taken from a chest played with by too many hands like a flower  _ ripped from the  _ **_fucking EARTH_ **

**FRISK.**

**NO Frisk, please I’m losing you. You have to stay calm.**

You were perfectly calm.

But what was happening to your body?

“It’s time for you and Lilli to come back home, Fleur. For all of the girls, too. No more running away from where you belong.”

“No,” you said, but your body was moving, taking steps that you did not want it to. You dug your heels in, but it only continued. It seemed no one was listening to what you wanted. “No,” you said louder, but still no one listened.

They were all too busy watching Zachary lead you home. The Home.

The Home!

“ _ No _ !” you screamed, the force of it breaking something loose in your heart. You flew into action, gasping for air as you shook and moaned with possibility, wrenching your arm from Zachary’s grasp. He turned to you with a mask of confidence, but suddenly you could see through the cracks to the terror beneath. “ _ You won’t have them, too _ !”

“Fleur, what  _ are  _ you—”

A flood of fiery, molten rage burst through the cracked shadows, dragging them and everything along with it as it poured into your clenched fists full of his waistcoat. As you pushed and spun, dragging him down to the sodden earth beneath you, you roared with all the darkness welling from within that deep place inside you,

“ **_My name is Frisk_ ** !”

Beyond those words, you knew very little

There was skin on bone

**…k!**

Bone on bone

**Sto…!**

Teeth sinking

tearing ripping in

to taste that blood waiting beneath

**You need to…!**

Crunch of

Snap of

**kssssssksssssssksssssstoooo**

Nerves jangling, raging, screaming

For you to stop

**Stop!**

Or was that

Something else

And then your name

And the shout of

Monster

**Get her off of him!**

Though whether…

Oh,

_ Oh _

That’s right

**Frisk, can you hear…**

Those shadows were meant to bring you

Peace

If only you would let them

**Can you hear me?**

**_Can you hear me_ ** **?**

Who was that?

**It’s me**

**_It’s me_ **

**Your** **_Friend_ **

No,

No, no, no

That wasn’t right

They weren’t your friend

That wasn’t your friend!

**Frisk, what are you talking about? You have to snap out of it!**

Yes, yes, that was true, that was right

There was something you had to do

Something important

**Yes, you need to wake up, because we need to get Zachary to the hospital or he’ll**

Zachary! That was it

That was what you were supposed to be doing

Zachary had threatened to force the girls in the Home back to their families, just like the doctors had done to you after you proved unable to rehabilitate

You had to stop him!

**…Sweetheart. I think you…you should wake up. You need to wake up.**

What? What was wrong? Why did they sound so worried

**Open your eyes, Frisk.**

You opened your eyes.

  
  


~

  
  


“Sweet mother of God!”

You flinched, unable to look away from the cracked stones underneath your feet to where Lilli stood over Zachary’s hospital bed.

“Will! Frisk! Frisk, what happened?”

There was still blood on your hands.

In your mouth.

In your throat.

In your heart.

“Tell me what happened,  _ cariad _ .”

Gentle fingers ran down the length of your jawline, easing your gaze higher.

You closed your eyes.

“Look at me,  _ cariad _ .”

You breathed in her scent, but it could not overwhelm the blood and flowers.

**Frisk. Look at her.**

Shadowy fingers tickled the nerves at your neck.

You did not look.

“ _ Frisk _ .”

Your eyes opened.

The concern and understanding waiting for you there in Lilli’s eyes was too much for you. You told her. You told her everything.

She only hugged you, and told you everything would be fine.

That it wasn’t your fault.

That Zachary had been losing himself for a long while.

You hadn’t meant to do it.

He had known what he was doing.

But all you could hear was the sound of your own heart, pumping his blood through your body.

You’d done it again.

After everything that had happened, you had let yourself be that person again.

They terrified you.

Even after years of control, all it took was one push at the wrong time, and there they were again.

You never could control them.

**Frisk. I’m going to try to calm you down again. Don’t panic.**

Shadows writhed around your soul, but there was little comfort in them.

You felt cold.

The only thing you could do was try to fix what they did when you lost control.

That was the only way to cleanse yourself of the taste, of the sound of his blood.

You’d vomited before, hanging over Papyrus’s arms as you finally comprehended what you’d done.

But it was still there.

You could hear it.

“Frisk,  _ listen to me _ , for God’s sake.”

Your hands shook as your eyes met Lilli’s once more.

“I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have to  _ go _ ,” you insisted, your mind and heart settled on the rightness of your decision. This was it; this was the only way you could start to come back to yourself. The only way you could hide them deep inside you again. “I have to go to the city and tell the constable what I’ve done. I have to tell him that his son is—”

“Frisk, you’re not making any sense. You can’t go to the city right now, it’s much too dangerous. Besides, we need you  _ here _ . We need you to be here with us. The matron can telephone the constable.”

“No. No, she—she can’t. He won’t—he’s not answering. Not responding. I have to go. I have to tell him what I’ve done.”

“No, I won’t let you go. I can’t lose you, too, Frisk. Please, don’t go!”

You stood up, carefully avoiding looking to where Zachary lay—to the blood leaking through to the white sheets—to the evidence of your sin.

Oh, God, they had been right, hadn’t they?

You left to the sound of Lilli calling your name, then calling for the matron.

No one stopped you as you mounted a horse and took off down the path to the city.

**No, Frisk. It isn’t a sin to defend yourself and the ones you love.**

No.

They’d been right about you.

You were an animal.

You needed to be locked away, held down by a boot until you tore yourself apart for the good of everyone.

You—

You…

**You know that isn’t right.**

You didn’t know anything anymore.

**You know that isn’t you.**

Who else could it be?

**I know you.**

Were you really you, if you no longer had the same heartbeat?

**I know what you are.**

How could they know what you really were? They hadn’t seen you back then, fighting with teeth and nails and bones until you were nothing more than an animal, crawling at the feet of the humans who foisted the title onto you. You’d tried so hard— _ so hard  _ —to be someone else, but after everything, you were still that little girl, scraping at her door, howling at the bloody moon to be free, and willing to kill for it.

**An animal does not take the time to make amends for fighting to survive. It simply continues on living the only life it knows.**

Animals could grieve. Could understand their actions had consequences. You seemed to hold neither.

You still didn’t feel sorry for what you’d done.

Didn’t that make you  _ worse  _ than an animal?

**It is disingenuous for you to label yourself so.**

**You are a human.**

You didn’t feel very human, just then.

**That’s because you’re a human who has been wronged so many times that you are now convinced that it must be YOU who is to blame for every wrong in the world, instead of placing the blame rightfully on the shoulders of those who have harmed you.**

It didn’t absolve you of violence. You had done so much to so many people, and had  _ enjoyed  _ it. You’d thought you were past that.

**Why do you trust them instead of yourself?**

They had an objective view of you. Surely that meant they understood who you were better than you could, yourself.

**Possibly. But that logic means nothing in the face of the fact that they did not know you. They did not want to know you. You were living proof that they were not always right.**

**They cannot have possibly defined who you are without that knowledge.**

Surely it didn’t matter who defined you, though, when you had just proved them right, after everything you’d worked to put behind you.

**By that reasoning, you are damned either way.**

Perhaps that was for the best.

**Perhaps, if that is what you wish. But not for railing against those who would harm you and those you hold dear should you be damned.**

Then for what reason?

**Well, that depends entirely upon you, doesn’t it?**

If they were suggesting that you were martyring yourself…

**I cannot possibly see how else to view this.**

You wished they would try. It was important to you to know. It felt like the difference between laying down in the earth as you waited for death and continuing to climb up the hill that you slid down again and again, just to know that you were still  _ trying _ . To you, at that moment, it did not feel as though you were martyring yourself by saying you were damned, no matter how you viewed your actions. It felt like penitence, like sacrifice for the sake of your identity. If you could hack away the rotten parts of yourself and lay them at the feet of God, could you then turn to face your punishment with a clear conscience? Could you live with the knowledge of what you’d done? You did not  _ want  _ to sacrifice your own life for that of false identity, but if sacrificing yourself could bring a measure of peace…

**Is that not what I’ve done for you?**

No. No, you’d never particularly felt as though they had devoured an entire part of you to make room for themselves. Or that they had rotted  you to the point that you could no longer hold up the weight of your past self.

**So you say that I have brought you a measure of peace without sacrificing you in the process.**

Well. Yes.

**Despite that you know I am not a good influence, nor, in fact, human.**

Of course. Though you might not say that they weren’t a good influence. There had been plenty of times they had saved you from making a poor decision simply through their wisdom alone. They might not always advise you to do what was best in the eyes of human morality, but you’d rarely felt the wrongness of it.

**Then do you not see the hypocrisy in that? Do you not see the double standards you’ve given yourself?**

…You were perhaps beginning to see.

**Frisk, you have moulded yourself into this set of strict regulations created by abusers that not only contradicts itself in its sole application to YOU and only you, but that no human could abide by in the first place!**

Your heart clenched as the truth rang through you.

**I have seen you since you were brought into this world, my darling, though it is only through effort and care have I truly begun to KNOW you. You have placed the weight of the world on your shoulders because you have always been told that it is your duty. And when it finally crushed you down, you blame yourself for failing to continue that impossible task and letting the darkness overwhelm you.**

**Have you never considered that the reason why I bring you peace is the simple fact that you can allow yourself to breathe when I am there whispering in your ear that it is alright to get your fingers dirty? That it is easier to separate yourself into two defined entities, one of whom is unable to be held responsible for her actions because of outside forces, than it is to allow yourself a single mistake?**

Oh, God. God, they were right.

Before this Cycle had brought parts of you crashing together disastrously, you had lived with a sense of height—a marked distance from yourself that left you feeling like you were watching your body acting out a dream. You had been a protector of the weak, a punisher of the corrupt, and, most of all,  _ free _ . You had drifted along with a sense of relief, finally allowing yourself the ability to act from without the parameters set to you by others. You had lost yourself in it, somewhere along the way.

Suddenly, the power behind the Master’s Call made a chilling sense to you. When the matron had spoken to you of what the Calling was, and what it could promise, you had assumed that it was taking advantage of your desire for a true home, for the family you should have had.

But now you understood.

The reason why the Master could reach so deep into your heart was because it spoke with your own voice.

The freedom you craved was from yourself.

But…if what your friend allowed you to feel was the other side of you that you had locked away…did that mean that was your true self after all?

**Don’t you see, Frisk? When I came to you—no, every day I am with you—you have always had the option to live any life you desire. I have the power to give you any life you wish. Your aunt lived a miserable, lonely life because she could not allow herself any other option. Your grandmother lived a long, happy life filled with riches, because she valued those things more than anything else. And your mother…well, much like you, she simply wanted a friend.**

Your hands itched to stroke the cross at your neck. You could feel its warmth against your skin, though, and that was enough.

**What I’m trying to make you understand, darling, is that while you have had the freedom to become whatever you desire, with little consequence, you have chosen to be who you are now. You may believe that your past has followed you—defined you—just waiting for you to lose control so that it can take over once more. But still despite this, you have not given up. Instead of tearing away at the world, leaving it worse than you came into it, you have worked to the betterment of those around you. You have worked to better yourself. You have chosen to be YOU.**

**Every day you live as yourself is another day of defiance against those who would tell you otherwise.**

**A step backwards cannot erase a lifetime of progress.**

**Despite every mistake, every misstep, every stumble—EVERYTHING—the person who you are is still just that—you, Frisk.**

**And nothing can ever take that away from you.**

You shuddered, your eyes closing with the truth of their words.

You ignored the tears that blew away in the wind.

Your heart beat quietly, though the cadence had changed, shifting to accommodate.

Neither of you spoke for the remainder of the journey.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the shadow over the city.
> 
> hEY EVRYBAHDY I godda BUCKwild tumblr you can visit if you're feeling ZESTY
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+)
> 
> yeah it's named after my own name CAN ya ACTually BLAME me


	40. Umbra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, I sometimes forget that not everybody checks the blog, so I'll mention here as well that I've finished the playlist for this fic. It's on spotify, and it can be found [ here. ](https://open.spotify.com/user/tellcosy/playlist/6AExG2hMcYK9tDO9e3fSHh)
> 
> If you need warnings for any of it, please read the notes for it on my blog. (link will be at the bottom as usual)
> 
> This was meant to go up tomorrow, but hey ho, y'all are getting it early!
> 
> Enjoy!

The city was destroyed.

From the moment you vaulted off your horse and strode through the city limits, you could feel the destruction. The air was heavy with smoke and perfume, the coppery blood and tangy, sour-sweetness of rotting death hitting your nose like a physical wall of scent. You could taste it in your mouth. It stung your eyes until they watered and tears spilled down your cheeks. You gagged as you swiped them away, digging in your duster’s pockets for a handkerchief but coming up with nothing. You wished dearly that you had been able to keep your head after what you’d done.

**Only time and space will offer you that privilege.**

You knew. You also knew that you didn’t  _ have  _ time or space from the situation. It was painfully obvious by the state of the city that your instinct had been correct—there was no possibility that the constable could have been reached by phone. You weren’t even sure he would be found in the station, with everything that was happening outside. Surely he would be out in the thick of it, trying to keep the peace or making arrests where he was needed.

**Let’s try the station first.**

You agreed—that was as good a starting point as any.

There was the added benefit of knowing your way around the back streets so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the brunt of the chaos in the city center. Still, despite the fact that you immediately slipped into the shadows with the aid of your friend, you soon encountered a vicious brawl that spanned the entirety of the alley you had been sneaking through. You watched in horror as men and women tore into each with teeth and tools, blood pooling at their feet and bodies piling up underneath their heels.

No one seemed to notice—even those who were rutting against the walls, screaming wordlessly, angrily as they slammed anything they could into each other—genitals, fingers, tongues, teeth, bits of debris—it didn’t seem to matter. Their eyes rolled in ecstasy even as blood trickled down their cheeks, some from wounds where their aggressor had obviously smashed their heads into the brick walls, and some from the eyes themselves. Others had taken to the bodies, screeching and bobbing furiously into or onto the broken flesh of their dead peers, all while clawing at their faces as though something was inside that pressed hard to be released.

You stood frozen, stomach turning horribly as you watched the violence in front of you, hoping to God that they wouldn’t notice you.

**Frisk—knife!**

Though you hadn’t spotted the threat by the time you’d pulled your knife out instinctively, you certainly saw them when they barreled into you, knocking the back of your skull against the dirty brick walls. Lights exploded behind your eyes and you felt the air catch in your lungs. You stumbled sideways, completely out of your head for more than a few seconds until the fact that someone had attacked you rushed back, and you blinked rapidly to clear your vision, falling away from the crawling body at your feet. 

Oh,  _ God _ . 

It seemed that they had gotten the worse deal in that short scuffle, considering your knife was sticking from their side even as they dragged themselves toward another body further down the alley.

**You’ll have to get it from them. It’s too dangerous to be out here without a weapon.**

God save you, they were right.

Unless…didn’t they have some kind of magic that could be used as a weapon?

**It would be better if you had the knife as well.**

Girding yourself with a few short, quick breaths, you leapt onto them and wrenched the knife from between their ribs with a wet  _ snick _ , immediately falling back to a comfortable distance after. They hadn’t even flinched during the whole thing, only grunting with anger that you had rolled them off of the person they had been tearing into. Your stomach heaved at the sight, but you looked away before it could overwhelm you, furiously wiping the blood away on the leg of your trousers. You were trying desperately not to wonder if you had looked so—so— _ inhuman _ , when you had lost your control.

**Do you want the truth, or do you want me to be kind? Also, we could have used that blood.**

No, you really couldn’t have. And that response was truth enough for you.

**Best just not to think about it.**

You agreed.

**I’m going to do the same magic as before, now.**

You nodded unnecessarily, still intent on cleaning your knife. The feeling of tightness and being overfull was much the same as it had been in the forest before, though now that you knew what to expect, it didn’t seem to last as long. There were still beads of sweat breaking out on your forehead by the time the shadows finally burst from you, eddying out like a rapid river consuming the banks around it. Soon enough, the riot of people were drenched in thick shadows, swallowed completely by the darkness.

**Let’s go.**

But—you could still hear the people. The darkness had not stopped them at all.

**They won’t notice you.**

Still, you hesitated.

**Fine. But don’t blame me if we run out of energy sooner rather than later.**

You were about to ask what they meant when the sensation of their shadows slowly trickling away overwhelmed you. You almost panicked and reached out for them, until you noticed the outline of a vaguely humanoid figure forming in the darkness in front of you. You gripped your knife tight, ready to lash out with it at any moment, until the face of the figure split in a somehow-familiar smile. Was that—had they—?

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask properly, though, the figure had dashed off faster than you could grasp, and after that, all you heard was the sound of bodies hitting the ground. You hunkered against the wall, ready to attack anyone or anything that might find you. But nobody attacked you, and silence finally reigned in the alley after the last body hit the ground with a hard thump. It was a few moments after that that you began to feel the soothing, smothering calm creeping back into you bit by bit, until your friend rested with a sigh back in their place at your heart.

**There. It is done.**

You did not hesitate this time, moving forward with your knife held at the ready. You inched closer and closer until your boot nudged the broken face of one of the bodies. You couldn’t tell, but it looked as though their eyes had fluttered. Were they—?

**They’re asleep. Best to tread lightly, unless you’re feeling particularly confident.**

You were not.

You crept forward, straining your eyes to spot the shape of any bodies in the dark, but other than a few nudges and accidental steps, you made it through the sleeping group of rioters with relative ease. You were suddenly,  _ immensely  _ grateful for your friend’s presence. You let loose a great heaving sigh as soon as you exited the alleyway, giving only a quick glance back before taking off in a trot towards the next shortcut. You were surprised to find that, though thinner than it had been in the alley, the darkness had seemingly spread over much of the city, and not just the alley. You hadn’t exactly been looking for how far the shadows had gone in the forest, so you weren’t exactly sure, but…

**We have much more power at our disposal. The shadows will go where we go.**

Wouldn’t someone notice moving shadows?

**_No one sees what I do not want them to see_ ** **.**

A slight shiver ran down your spine as they spoke with such finality, their voice oddly alien and unfamiliar.

You decided not to question any more.

Even though your friend had spoken with confidence, you could not stop your instinct to keep close to the walls as you made your way through the city. There were several times when you thought you’d been spotted by another group of howling rioters doing horrible things to each other, but before you could ever wonder too long, that same shadow figure had already struck out. Every time, you waited with heartbeat racing until you heard the last body drop before continuing on, the figure trailing after you as your own shadow. You couldn’t help but notice that the more times the shadow had to strike out, though, the hungrier you became, until your stomach was an empty, gnawing pit. You tried your best to ignore it, but it soon became distraction enough that you didn’t see the flickering light until you were only a few yards away from the alley it was coming from.

**Stop!**

You drew up short, your nerves jangling from the sharp command sent through your body. Your eyes immediately caught on the yellow light up ahead, irregular and weak. It flickered and swayed, as though a lamp were being held aloft as someone listed in their stride. Your heart banged against your ribs and you struggled to take a breath, the hand holding your knife quivering gently with dread. There was an immensely, dreadfully  _ awful  _ aura of  _ something wrong  _ emanating from that light, sending your mind into a tailspin. Your entire self became an arrow of focus, stuck deep in watching that light. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting, watching, wondering.

It was a human.

It was a human, with thorned vines wrapped around their body and limbs and neck and through their mouth—or was it from their mouth—and eyes like—eyes like—

God in heaven, the eyes!

Light spewing from eyes like being frozen in the dark shivering waiting for the shadow to consume you, sharp teeth, sharp smile, sharp eyes hungry for blood of life, whispers promises of pain of fear of death of hollow emptiness of oblivion of sick, rotting, disgusting desperation dripping from skin hot in the moonlight

Worse than death

Worse than life

Oh, God!

The eyes!

The eyes!

The light…

It

Found

You

**What—how—how did it—**

Your human body spent no whys or hows, only gulped down a panicked breath before fleeing with the terror of the unknown nipping at its heels, your mind caught in spiraling madness even as your body fought for life. 

Through the static and high whine in your ears, you heard weedy laughter as you ran clumsily through the shadowed streets, and your terror spiked higher when you realised it was you. Screams and howls pierced your heart as your vision narrowed to a small circle just in front of you, your limbs going numb and fumbling even as fingers grasped for purchase behind you. You nearly fell in several different tight turns, and every time, there was another light-eyed human waiting in front of you, ready to snatch you. It was only the last one, just at the foot of the steps of the police station, that actually managed to fulfill its purpose, and get its hands on you.

The moment it did, your friend wailed and screeched in such an inhuman way that it chilled you straight to the bone, freezing you in place long enough for them to take control of your body. You felt the walls between you crack and crumble, but they held long enough for them to slice out with the knife, splitting the twisted, light-bearing human’s eyes. You flinched as the blood struck your cheeks, leaving your friend to wrench your body away from the squealing host, their hands tearing and tearing and tearing at their broken face. You felt yourself bolt up the stairs and slam through the still-broken doors, turning immediately up the stairs to the second floor.

When finally you had a closed and locked door between you and your pursuers, you stood just catching your breath, shaking uncontrollably with adrenaline as you bent over your knees. Your friend retreated reluctantly back to their usual place with a silent warning to  _ be more careful _ , which you were quick to agree with. Once your lungs were no longer screaming with need, you stood up straight enough to glance out the window beside you, wondering why you hadn’t heard any pursuit. As soon as you looked, though, you felt even sicker than before, as you saw the group of light-eyed humans still standing at the foot of the stairs, simply  _ watching  _ . Their eyes snapped to where you poked your head in the window, the maddening yellow light flooding the hall around you.

You slammed back against the door, your feet sliding out from under you as you fell to the floor to escape their sight, but still the light stayed.

**I—I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how they can see us. I don’t—I don’t understand—I thought I knew—I thought I remembered—**

You shook your head, swiping the sleeve of your duster across your face to get rid of the blood pouring from your nose and the remnants of the human’s blood that had mixed with it. You stared down at the streaks left on your hand, noticing the tremble in your fingers. Your muscles were twitching sporadically, and you knew that if you continued like this, you would lose control soon.

The why didn’t matter right now. You didn’t need to know why their magic hadn’t worked. You only had one duty—tell the constable, and get out of the city alive.

**But—I—yes, you’re right. Let’s go quickly, in case more side effects show.**

You nodded to no one and took another few breaths through your nose, fighting through your gag reflex at the smells all around you. Finally you worked yourself up enough to burst into action, rolling to your feet and running down the hall as fast as you could manage while being assaulted by the light. 

You’d kept your eyes closed, but the light leaked through your lids, worming its way into your mind and tearing at the walls there. You screamed as you saw a vision of a many-armed, many-eyed, impossibly shifting creature being birthed by pulsing, viscous flesh, slithering to the floor before turning its eyes to you. Just as you saw its eyes begin to split apart to show teeth inside, your head was slammed into a wall hard enough for light to explode through you. You gasped at the pain in your mouth as your sight returned, seeing that you had crashed into the corner just outside the constable’s office. The light could not reach where you had collapsed, and you took a moment to nurse your bitten tongue, swallowing the blood pooling out from it.

**I’m sorry I had to do that. I could not afford to lose you again.**

It was fine. Better hurt than mad.

You shook your head to clear the dancing spots from your vision, blinking rapidly until you could only faintly see them. You struggled back to your feet, hesitating when you wobbled, a little lightheaded. Giving yourself another shake of the head, you stumbled forward, pushing through the door ahead. You immediately had to cover your mouth and nose at the intensely sweet, floral stench that pervaded the room. Still, you couldn’t stop a small coughing fit when you took a breath full of a dusty, powdery substance. 

You continued forward, though, squinting in the darkness until you spotted the constable’s chair nestled against the corner, facing towards the window away from you. A booted leg stuck out at an odd angle, slack. Dread sunk your heart low, and you had to clench your hands and jaw to keep yourself from giggling again. Your breath came fast and shallow as you inched into the room, edging around the large desk and overturned shelves until you were just behind the chair.

**Something is very wrong. We should leave, Frisk.**

You couldn’t. You had to do this.

“Constable?” you said softly, hoping for a response.

There was none.

“It’s—it’s me. It’s Frisk.”

Still nothing.

Swallowing thickly, you continued around to the front of the chair, afraid of what you might find.

But it was just the constable, sitting loosely in the chair, his eyes wide and vacant as he stared outside at the mayhem in the streets.

“Constable?”

He did not look at you.

That was when you saw what his hands were doing—slowly, methodically, loading a rifle with mechanical smoothness.

“Constable, are you okay? I have to tell you something. It’s—it’s your son—it’s Zachary, he—he came to the Home—and I—”

The constable looked up at you.

Your words could not come.

**Frisk, let’s go. We have to go!**

“Constable?” you managed to squeak.

The constable stood.

**FRISK, RUN.**

His eyes flickered with a strange yellow light.

You ran.

You did not think.

You did not plan.

You only ran, your heart thudding and muscles twitching and lungs seizing and eyes rolling with terror as you slashed and twisted and screamed and ran, and ran, and ran—

And they ran, too.

God save you, they followed.

Every time you looked back over your shoulder, they were closer.

More lights flooded the streets.

Where the light fell, rioters followed.

You ran.

A human leapt from a building, shrieking the whole way down, until—

You had no choice but to wipe the blood from your face and consume.

Every time you fell—every gush of blood from your nose—every hand grasping you from the alleys—

You skipped.

Your friend’s magic stuttered and chugged through the exhaustion in your body, but it always managed to save you just as death—or worse—came calling.

One second, the gaping maw would be opening over your face, bearing down on you—

Next, you had fallen into that screaming, yanking void, and you were somewhere else.

They whined with distress, wildly consuming the leftover energy as

You

Ran

Finally, the horse.

But

BUT THEY FOLLOWED

Oh, God, oh God!

How could they follow the pounding hoofbeats of the beast below you, its own screaming joining yours with every sudden light in the trees above and ahead and behind they

_ Followed! _

One more stutter

One more yank of the soul

One more eyes closed, mouth open, crying pleading jolt and

You were close enough

You were Home.

You flew through the gates, ignoring the crack of your shoulder as you flung the doors open and closed behind you, slamming the boards across.

“ _ Matron! _ ”

You were like a gale through the hallways, roaring and thundering in your warning of the storm to come.

“ _ Matron, they’re here _ !”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: invasion.
> 
> That's right, ladies, this tumblr went from DRAB to FAB using nothing but muuuuustaaaard!
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+)


	41. Germination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! So I'm gonna switch stuff up a bit starting from this chapter (and will go back to fix the others at some point) by putting the warnings for chapters at the bottom notes EXCEPT FOR SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CHAPTERS. I will always mark those at the top, but the warnings of what happens in the sexual content will still be at the bottom. That way, if people prefer reading without knowing, they can, and if they don't, well, they don't have to.
> 
> That said, thank you all for reading, and here we go!
> 
> <3

“Quickly, child,  _ quickly _ !”

You fought to argue against the matron’s strength, but in the end you lost the fight and succumbed to being hidden away in the room behind the bookcase in the matron’s office.

“Stay quiet, stay still, and no matter what you hear,  _ stay hidden.  _ Make no mistake—the Master is coming for you, child. You  _ must not be taken _ .”

You didn’t get the chance to offer a single argument before the bookcase was slammed shut, sealing you in the darkness. You leaned hard into the door, pounding with your fists and pleading to be let free—that you had to help everyone—you had to—you couldn’t just stay hidden—didn’t she understand,  _ you had to help or they’d all die _ !

But the matron was already gone.

You opened your mouth to shout louder out of pure instinct, but your friend’s hand smothered the words before they escaped. You twisted and gasped, falling back over something in the dark. Your eyes weren’t adjusting quickly to the darkness, and so you were left to crawl helplessly towards a far wall, feeling your way. Your eyes stayed wide, flitting back and forth as though if they tried hard enough, they would be able to see in the dark.

Several times your fingertips touched something sticky and warm, sending you into a wild, animal panic only for you to realise it was your own blood. Finally you navigated your way onto what could only be a cot bed. You fell limp, your arms hanging off the side as your vision danced with lights, trying to create sight out of nothing. You watched the lights, drifting away as your limbs went numb and your breath caught, your ears straining to hear anything outside of the cell.

**Snap out of it!**

You gagged on the blood slopping down your throat, splatters of it hitting your face as you just managed to cough it up.

Your head was spinning and throbbing.

Your heart was making ominous stutters.

You were so tired.

**I can’t do this without you!**

That wasn’t—

**Sans and Papyrus are in trouble. Papyrus isn’t responding and I can barely get a feel where he is. They can’t do this without you. The matron can’t do this without you. You can’t afford to break now.**

You choked again, but instead of letting it clog your lungs, you rolled over and leaned off the side of the bed to get it all out. You were shuddering with the effort it took, but you knew your friend was right. You had to fight. You had to do something, or your friends would all die. Everyone you cared about would die. But what could you possibly do to get out of the safe room? You had no weapons, no tools, no magic—nothing. You were completely helpless.

**Since when did** **_you_ ** **need those things to not be helpless?**

…they were right.

You stood on quivering legs, hands clenched into numb fists as you drew yourself up to your full height.

All it took was one breath—

—one trembling step—

—for that familiar, stinging warmth to spread through your body, washing away the choking doubt and pain in one sweeping flood.

It didn’t matter if leaving the room would prove to be the end of you.

You would not sit quietly.

You would not give in.

You would not let your friends die.

You would fight.

You would take one step after another, and you would cry and scream and  _ fight  _ and  _ fight  _ until the moment you had either won the battle or died trying, and even then—

_ You would fight  _ .

You took several quick, bracing breaths after aligning yourself with the faint outline of the door.

You took a moment to center yourself.

And then  _ charged _ , bending your leg up just before you smashed into the door and slamming the flat of your boot against the middle edge.

You were more than surprised to find yourself crashing through to the matron’s office into an ugly, crushing silence that made your skin prickle.

**I told you you didn’t need any of that.**

Your eyes immediately lit on your old, worn knife, laying on top of the matron’s desk where she had tossed it after you had come careening in earlier. You scanned the room, eyeing the open door with extreme suspicion as your heart hammered away in your chest. You were frozen with dread. You couldn’t hear  _ anything _ , and that scared you more than any sounds of a fight could. A fight meant there was struggle.

Silence could only mean death.

You had no idea what could be waiting for you just around that corner, ready to strike the moment you left the doorway.

It could be your friends, bringing their aid.

It could be death.

It could be a fate worse than death.

Your throat worked up and down, desperate to release the tension in your body. Tears, laughter, screams—it didn’t care. Your body was  _ terrified _ , and no amount of deep breaths or determination could convince it you weren’t about to die.

**Good. Better to be alive and afraid than complacent and dead.**

You swallowed dryly, the dust tickling your nose as your eyes flitted between the door and the desk.

There were weapons in that desk.

Well, that was really the only thing you needed to know, wasn’t it?

Taking one last look at the suspiciously empty hall, you bolted over to the desk, snatching up the knife and swiveling back around to see if anything was about to attack. But there was nothing. You stood breathing hard, gulping down the air like you were a fish strung up on a sailor’s line. You shook violently with adrenaline as you tore open the weapons cabinet that stood behind the desk, snatching everything you could easily carry. Brass went on your knuckles. The matron’s rifle went in a holster around your back as you struggled not to panic about it not being with her. Length of wire strong enough to tear a limb from a person. A pocket mirror. A sturdy billy club went on your hip, next to your old lamp.

Another…another knife. One that called to a memory long past. One that you had only seen in a dream long ago.

It felt wrong in your hand.

But you took it anyway.

You wanted to take more, but it was time to go. These would have to do.

**Frisk.**

Your hands clenched the two knives until you had the manic thought that the wood and metal might splinter and fuse with your skin.

**When the time comes, do not hesitate again.**

…You wouldn’t.

With no more preparation to be had, you took one large breath, held it, and moved forward slowly, slowly, slowly to the door, holding the mirror just so, to see if anyone was waiting to ambush.

No one.

Time to go.

You edged into the moon-darkened hall, moving steadily but carefully towards the stairs to the upper dormitories.

There was so little sound that you felt old, primal—animal.

You breathed softly through your mouth, eyes open as wide as they would go. You felt your friend’s presence pool out of you until you could glimpse movement in your shadow not created by your body.

The silence crushed.

You moved as through molasses, thick and heavy and stupid.

Though you tried for the soundless grace of a predator, your body knew better.

You were being hunted.

Several times, you had to stop and look all over in a panic, convinced that the darkness in front of you had shifted— _ moved _ . It was an ever-present struggle between your primal self and your conscious self, desperately seeking shelter from death while pressing yourself forward into the danger in order to save the others.

Eventually, though, you made it to the stairs, and nearly bolted straight up them when the silence was broken with a soul-clenching scream.

But when you reminded yourself to look back for one last danger check, you happened to glance down the other side of the hall and with the glimmering, shifting light from the eclipse, you finally realised why there had been no sound on this floor.

Clumped together like foul spawn, the bodies of the sisters had been stuck to the ceiling with a thick, ropey—

Web.

Muffet.

_ Muffet was inside the Home. _

Before your blooming terror could overwhelm you, you tore back down the stairs and began hacking at the webbing around the squirming bodies, a whining babble spewing from your throat unbidden.

“No—no, we’ll—here, yes, I will—she will—go,  _ run _ !—okay, no, shh—I’ll—oh, God,  _ God, GOD please—oh,  _ sweet Lord, no, I know—go please, don’t try to help, just go—I have to—I have to—I have to—”

You ripped and tore and hacked and cried and squealed with frustration, but in the end, you only managed to free a handful of the sisters before your friend gave a booming command to run that echoed in your heart and left no room for denial. Your body fled before you could argue that you had to stay, you  _ had to save them _ ! A long growling whine trailed from you as you sprinted back to the stairs, directed by your friend’s hand, but you could not fight the compulsion knitted into your limbs. You were about to attempt to tear control away just as your body stopped of its own volition, your head throbbing hard enough to deafen your racing heart.

**Do you know another way up?**

Well—yes—there was the old servant’s access panels on the other side of the floor—but why would you—

_ THERE WAS SOMETHING COMING DOWN THE STAIRS _

Three legs as big around as your neck skittering wildly as they supported the others pushing, pushing through the narrow staircase, a head, shoulders, hair matted, fangs chomping into the flesh of a woman you’d only seen smiling a day ago, hours, now scrabbling for purchase against her imminent death, eyes wide, glassy, mangled legs dragging underneath the beast as her mouth soundlessly begged you to kill her before the demon devoured her—

**If you know a way out of here—**

Without taking another moment to think it through, you unclipped the rifle, braced it against your shoulder to take aim, cocked it, and fired a bullet straight through the woman’s head, obliterating it in a spray of gore.

**No—Frisk! We need those bullets! She was already going to die!**

Not soon enough.

You immediately re-cocked the gun, taking aim for the shrieking spider-woman’s heart. You didn’t know how monsters could be killed, but you had a good idea that if they all possessed that same fluttering soul you’d seen in the brothers, that was what your target should be.

Muffet had already tossed aside the corpse of the woman, rearing up aggressively.

“ _ Disgusting human _ ! Filth! Spreading your muck every—”

Second round. Missed the chest as she lunged for you, but even as you skittered back, you managed to bury the bullet in one of her legs. She wailed, the leg kicking uselessly behind her as you re-cocked once more and took aim.

“ _ I’ll kill you _ !  _ I’ll eat you up _ !”

Third round, through the abdomen. Close, but not good enough, only managing to make her stumble for a moment before she came barreling toward you again.

**Behind you! Down!**

The warning came just as you had let loose the penultimate bullet, and even as you dropped and swung around to see what had blindsided you, you heard the bullet go wide, ricocheting.

You scarcely had time to worry about that, though, when you saw the river of smaller, but still very enormous spiders tumbling over each other as they raced down the hall to your position.

“Oh.”

It was at that moment that you began acting on pure instinct. It only took another moment to decide that your gun would be useless now. You had failed to eliminate the spider woman, and now that her spawn were heading for you, you only had one real option.

Run.

You took the precious second to re-clip your gun back into its holster before you turned back to Muffet with a curious sense of calm washing over you.

No more time to hesitate. The spiders at your back were close enough to feel the vibrations from their weight hitting the ground.

Muffet was smiling, looming over you.

You took a deep breath—

And bolted between her legs, rolling and ducking and scrambling to avoid her stamping legs, her snapping teeth, her grasping hands—until— _ until  _ !—

You were on the other side!

**Go, go!**

You did not look back as you ran through the webbed hallway, wrenching your legs high to keep from sticking to the webbing. Your entire self narrowed to the sound of your breath coming hard and ragged punctuated by your heavy footfalls.

And behind you, the skittering death that pursued.

Several times you had to buckle to a near stop to sling off one of the mammoth spiders that had managed to land their leap, crying out with horror and revulsion even as you continued your mad escape. After what felt like an eternity of hearing your death come closer and closer, you took two sharp, dangerous turns into the old servant’s area. 

You didn’t even bother to slam the door behind you as you stumbled and fell over yourself trying to open the tiny, jammed stairwell access door, watching as Muffet bent and squeezed and pressed herself into the room despite her size. You couldn’t stop a bellow of frustration from erupting from behind clenched teeth as you strained hard against the door, every muscle screaming at you.

_ Slam _ !

The door jumped, but held.

Muffet was half-way in the room, her eyes unblinkingly focused on you.

_ Slam _ !

The door was bent and nearly open, but still stuck fast at the bottom.

Muffet was fully in the room, now, her teeth glinting with ropey saliva as she made a leap for you.

_ Slam _ !

Finally through the door, ignoring the stairs that wound up to the left and instead taking the ladder you knew would open out near the bell tower, where hopefully Papyrus and Sans were—

**Move faster!**

You nearly choked on panic at your friend’s command, kicking for and missing the next rung on the ladder as you leaned to see below you.

_ Muffet was still coming after you _ !

Somehow—some way—she had managed to fit herself through the door and was now climbing after you.

Oh, God.

Oh,  _ God _ .

She wasn’t going to stop until you were dead.

She obviously didn’t care what the Master—or anyone—wanted to do with you.

She was a spider on the hunt.

Seeing the look of intent in her eyes, you made the decision to take the chance.

Tucking one foot through the ladder and bracing both, you unclipped your rifle and took shaky aim.

**This is folly.**

You knew that.

But what choice did you have?

Your friend didn’t have the magic to try to turn her over to your side. Did they?

**…I could manage, but not without time.**

So this was the only option.

Because she would never stop if you didn’t try to incapacitate her somehow.

**Then wait until she is close. You cannot afford to miss.**

You tried your best to keep a steady breath even as you bent from the ladder, legs shaking with the effort of holding you in place.

**Not yet…**

You pushed aside the quivering human fear of death that threatened to ruin your only chance at survival.

Muffet was almost at your feet.

**Get ready.**

Her legs were on all sides of you, thick and rough and eye-watering.

**Now!**

Her hands were clawing at your legs, her eyes blinking rapidly in excitement.

You cocked the last bullet.

And  _ fired  _ .

It was as if everything went completely still, if only for a moment.

Silence reigned once more.

With the two eyes she had left held open wide and her mouth stretched in an ‘o’ of surprise, Muffet’s spider body collapsed underneath her, and she went tumbling down the shaft until she struck the floor, legs akimbo and eyes still staring up at you.

You waited only long enough to see the smaller spiders begin to swarm over her before clipping the rifle up again and turning back to the ladder, taking leaps up the rungs. Part of you was immensely relieved, but part of you was still feeling sick.

And oddly enough, part of you hoped she wouldn’t die from her wounds. Frankly, you were surprised that she wasn’t already dead, considering you’d practically decimated her skull, but you supposed monster physiology was different.

**I don’t think she will die. But I’m not going to be sad if she does. She tried to kill you.**

You thought that maybe you would be. Despite her madness and apparent love of tormenting you, she was still only a puppet in the Master’s hands.

She deserved another chance just as much as any of them, and it hurt to be the one taking it away.

**Well, if we live through this, I promise I will offer her that chance.**

You were grateful.

But they were right, there were more pressing matters at hand. You’d finally reached the platform and door that led out into the hallway below the bell tower, and you pushed through it with no trouble this time. Cursing its ease under your breath, you headed straight to the bell tower’s door and jumped up the ladder, flinging open the hatch.

“Sans? Papyrus? Are you—”

But they weren’t there.

You took a moment to look around, nerves jangling. The wooden chair next to the bed had been overturned and the shackles on the bed itself were hanging off the side, opened.

Opened—not broken.

You breathed a mild sigh of relief.

So they hadn’t been ambushed, at the very least.

**Come, we should keep moving.**

You took one more look around the tower rooms above and below before nodding and leaving, heading for the usual exit down to the second storey of the Home. You moved cautiously, but quickly—there was no telling how much time you had wasted on Muffet, or how much anyone had left before the constable and his men found them. You slowed down just enough to reload the other set of bullets into the rifle, readying the first but keeping the safety on just in case. You held it loosely at the ready as you gently shut the stairwell door behind you, trying to avoid the usual  _ snck  _ of sound it made. You skipped down the stairs quickly, looking both ways with growing alarm.

All through the hallways, thick, thorny vines had wound their way on the walls, tangling together to create an impassable mass.

So the constable—and the Master—had already arrived on this floor.

**They likely went straight here.**

You puzzled over it for only a moment before you realised why.

More bodies to infect. More puppets—more  _ soldiers—  _ to track you and the others.

More enemies that you would struggle to put down.

**Don’t, Frisk. You said you wouldn’t.**

But—

**Quiet. What’s that sound?**

You stopped dead, raising your rifle by a hair as you held your breath.

But—nothing.

What sound had they heard?

**It was like a—there! Do you hear?**

Oh, yes—you’d heard it that time.

A slow, ambulatory shuffling. A scratching rustle that sent spiny prickles down your body and into your heart.

What could that be?

You edged forward until you were flat against the corner, the vines and thorns threatening to break through your duster. While listening with bated breath and a galloping heart, you thought you heard a shifting behind you, so faint that you nearly missed it. You almost wrote it off as the usual groans of an old building, but your friend’s hand at your jaw eased your gaze that way. Your heart nearly fell out of your chest when you saw that the source of the shuffling sound had come up behind you and was only a few feet away, blindly trudging past you.

It was a man—or, at least you  _ thought  _ it was, though you couldn’t be absolutely sure, as their body was draped with the thorny vines that fell from their mouth, twisting and tangling over their head before trailing off to meet more of the vines on the wall. Only their mouth was exposed, torn and nearly lipless from the thorns ripping into their skin.

You watched with horror bordering on curiosity as they shuffled past you before stopping at the entrance to the stairwell you’d only just come through and bent over, their body shuddering. Part of you wanted to simply strike at them and put the human inside out of their misery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move even an inch, frozen to the spot as they began to make horrible choking sounds. Hands slid out from underneath the curtain of thorned vines and buried deep in their gaping maw before wrenching them back out, fistfuls of vines coming with every gagging choke. The vines they tore out seemed to reach out and connect to the others at the walls, until the opening to the stairwell was nearly closed up.

Well, you supposed you wouldn’t be going back the way you’d come anyway.

**Let’s go while it’s occupied. It doesn’t seem to be able to see or hear us.**

You watched it only another brief moment before nodding and edging around the corner, careful not to jostle the vines as you went. Who knew what other senses these abominations might have? But you soon found that your attempt at stealth hadn’t mattered in the slightest, when you turned down the hall and found yourself face-to-face with another, different abomination that was decidedly  _ not  _ unaware of your presence. Another human body, draped in vines, but unlike the other, this was suspended from the ceiling and covered head-to-toe in blooming, writhing flowers, the heads of which had arced to face you the moment you’d stepped into proximity.

There was a split second of heart-crushing silence while the many eyes rolled and twitched at the sight of you before hell broke through. With a wet  _ crack,  _ the eyes split apart and let loose an unearthly squealing shriek that made you clap your hands to your ears even as you ran for your life, the rifle clattering to the ground.

You ran blindly through the infested halls, tripping and stumbling over vines that reached out for you as you called out for the matron wildly, unable to stay calm with the terror stabbing through you at every shrieking abomination you passed. Your friend tried desperately to muffle the sound, but the further into the halls you ventured, the weaker—and thus more frantic—they became. You were guided by your instinct alone, having lost the ability to reason further than crying out for the matron. Finally—though it was so soft that you thought you might have hallucinated it in your panic—you heard a response.

You skittered to a stop in the middle of the dormitory halls, calling this way and that and listening for the response in a sort of desperate game of blind man’s bluff. You eventually pinpointed the origin of the matron’s voice and immediately set to hacking and sawing at the vines there, ignoring how they tore up your skin. The shrieking was overwhelming every sense you had, even making your vision throb and narrow as you worked through the vines blocking the door, stopping at times to stomp and cut at the vines winding their way up your body.

You thought you could hear the shuffle of the curtained abomination approaching, but it was difficult to tell through the other sounds. You rubbed furiously at your eyes with the back of your wrist several times, looking for any sign of the thing approaching you, but you could barely see a few feet ahead of you, much less any potential attacker.

Soon your arms began to ache desperately, though, as with every vine that tumbled to the floor, another one seemed to wriggle its way across the door, taking the fallen one’s place. You cried with frustration, continuing to hack through the screaming tiredness in your body, pounding your fist against the vined door as you called for the matron to help you release her. You didn’t know how that would be possible, and you hadn’t really been thinking when you’d said it, but almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth there came an impossibly loud, booming word that silenced the shrieks as it imprinted an image of a rune in your mind.

**Frisk…Frisk, I can’t st…**

With those weakly whispered words, you felt your friend crumple within you, curling inside your heart until they were only noticeable if you searched  _ very  _ hard. Thankfully, though, before you could panic too much, you noticed the vines were also falling under your knife at a much more manageable rate. Before too long you’d hacked through enough of them that you could push the door in, though you met resistance on the other side in the form of more vines.

“Matron?” you called out, starting on the second set of vines. “Matron, are you there?”

There was no response.

Your breath came fast, panic making your knife clumsy.

“Matron! Please answer me!”

A soft shuffling sound.

Then a stomach-tossing, gagging choke.

“No!” your cry came unbidden, and you began ripping at the vines with your bare hands, tearing them apart with little regard for your palms. “ _ Stay away from her _ !”

With a few more wrenching snaps, you barreled through the remaining tendrils and into the room, immediately spotting the matron amongst the vine-covered dormitory, who was bound to a chair by a set of thick, cordy vines that were sluggishly pressing further into her mouth. Her wide, glassy eyes sent such a bolt of alarm through you that you practically flew across the room and took hold of the vines with both hands.

“I’m sorry, Matron!” was all you took time to gasp out before bracing yourself and giving a hard, full-body yank that tore the vines from her in one motion. You threw them to the floor and ground them beneath your heel before turning to catch the matron as she slumped forward, gasping and groaning raggedly and so weakly that your heart fluttered. You snapped through the rest of her bindings with ease, bracing her back against the chair.

“Matron?” you whispered, one hand at her cheek. She groaned again, her eyes rolling back in their sockets for a moment before coming back to focus on you. You took that as an encouraging sign. “Matron, please look at me. Please, it’s Frisk. I’m here to save you!”

The matron’s lips were moving quickly, though only a rasping whisper emerged. Nothing she said made sense—it seemed to be in a language you could not understand.

“Matron,  _ please _ ,” you begged, giving her shoulders a little shake. You’d never seen her so vulnerable—it shook you to your very core to see her like this. “Please, we have to go! You have to come with me!”

“Bl…bloo…blood!” The matron choked out, blood-tinged saliva dribbling down her chin as she coughed raggedly. “Ta—take—my— _ blood _ !”

“What?” you whispered, hands trembling with adrenaline.

The matron’s eyes focused closer on yours, though her jaw still hung loose. “I don’t—know—if I will…” Her head lolled back and her chest heaved, sending a spray of blood and what looked to be seeds from her in a furious coughing fit. You quailed, unsure of how to help her other than bending her forward and giving hard hits to her back. For a few terrifying moments, she seemed to be choking—or drowning—her eyes bulging wide as she clawed at her throat, but before you could position yourself to do anything about it, she threw herself forward and vomited.

You caught her by her shoulders before she could collapse to the floor, holding her as she regurgitated over and over, until one last already sprouted seed came out. The matron took hold of the thin tendrils sprouting from it, taking several fast, shallow breaths before yanking hard, ejecting the small, but very much alive flower that had apparently tried to take root within her, as well. The bit of strength the matron had had within her seemed to leave her all at once, and she fell against you fully.

“Matron? Matron!”

Her head lolled towards you when you gave her a little panicked shake. Her eyelids fluttered, and when she spoke it was raspy and weak. “Child…I need you to promise me…”

“Yes?” you prompted when she trailed off, her eyes going out of focus.

Your voice seemed to startle her, and she took a shuddering breath. “Promise me that no matter what happens here, you will take my blood. Fairchild will know what to do with it.” Her words were slow and deliberate, and you couldn’t help but worry desperately. She looked like death was hovering over her, ready to collect.

You shook your head, unsure of why she would demand such a thing from you, but still said, “Yes, Matron.”

“That’s a good lass.”

And with that, she collapsed against you. You ground your teeth with despair until you pressed two fingers tight to her neck and felt the pulse there, weak but steady. You released your held breath and forced yourself to calm down. You were all alone in this for now, and you didn’t have time to wait for either the matron or Chara to return and help you save everyone. But you were in a sudden quandary. You didn’t want to leave the matron here where she could be infected again, but how were you going to carry her and still manage to evade the Master’s puppets?

You floundered for a long few moments, unable to think with the rune still pulsing heavily in your mind. In the end, though, it was the rune itself that made your decision for you. You knew that while it was still active, she would be safer here than with you, where you were going. As long as you cleared out as many vines as you could—which you did, the second you accepted in your heart that this was the safest possible place for her—then she should be secure enough until you got back with the brothers.

You just had to be fast.

With the matron in a relatively comfortable position on the bed, you went back to the door, already exhausted to the bone. Moving the matron and clearing out the vines nearest to her had taken what little energy you’d had left, and you knew you were purely running on adrenaline now. You set your jaw and gripped your knife in your free hand, listening carefully at the door before shoving through and moving quickly along towards the only other exit you knew. You were immensely grateful for whatever magic the matron wielded in her runes.

Twice you had to go past the flower-covered alarm-raising humans, keeping your eye on them even though they were slumped forward, eyes staring blankly, unmoving. A few times, you also had to stop and cut open other doors, just to make sure there wasn’t anyone else trapped inside, but thankfully it seemed the matron had worked quickly enough to get everyone out before she’d been overwhelmed. You didn’t think too hard on who might be beneath the flowers and vines of the infected. It was better not to.

You made it to the other exit, heaving a sigh when you had to saw through more of the vines. You only did enough to be able to slip through, getting numerous cuts and scrapes from the thorns. You hardly paid that any attention, though, as you noticed the edges of the rune beginning to flicker, and with it, your meager safety. You wished you’d had the foresight, back when the matron had first used it on you, to ask her what the word was, and if you could somehow use it as well. As it was, you had only yourself to rely on now.

At the bottom of the stairs, you pushed through the door with abandon. You didn’t know if Muffet had actually died, but you now had little recourse for saving yourself from her even if she hadn’t. It made you a strange sort of bold, knowing that even if you were stealthy and silent, you would likely still be found and killed—or worse—so there was very little sense in creeping about, wasting precious time. It was freeing, somehow. You took a few quick turns in the halls until you were headed for the only other place you could think the brothers might have gone—the last place they’d known you were.

The hospital.

As you approached the large double doors to the hospital proper, you began to realise why the rest of the Home had been so quiet. From behind the doors came such alarming sounds that you had to take several pauses just to catch your breath. Roars loud as an earthquake—chittering squeaks that sent your nerves crawling with disgust—and there, again, that alien shrieking, that unholy, unwholesome wailing that sent your gorge rising with primal fear. And through it all wove the screams of humans caught inexorably in the clash between monsters.

Here was where the battle was.

Part of you quailed with true terror as the rest of you charged ahead, unmindful of the very real danger. You knew it was reckless, but there was little you could do to stop yourself; if the brothers were in there, caught in the fight you had brought upon them, well…

There really wouldn’t be any chance of stopping you.

You burst in on a scene of carnage. At first it seemed as though it was mostly uninfected humans who laid slaughtered across the beds and floor, but you noticed that many of them had the vines creeping from their mouths and eyes, already seeking new hosts. You looked all around you in a panic, the alien shrieks, horrific gore, and mind-fogging smell of the mountain all sending you into a wild confusion.

You couldn’t see anyone you recognised immediately, the desperate battle making it more than difficult to see anyone’s faces. You pushed through, dodging where you could, and striking out on instinct otherwise, a rising cry pouring from your throat unbidden with every slice of flesh and spray of blood. There were so many bodies—so many limbs flailing, crushing, eyes wide looking, shrieking in your ears, thorns digging deep in you as you pressed, pressed in, pressed for a safe place, all while your mind screamed at you to fight,  _ fight,  _ **_fight_ **

**Ffff—ff-f-ffff…**

All through the radio static slice, skewer, drag the knife out, wipe away the blood, stab, stab, stab those glowing, gleaming, glistening orbs, scrabble for purchase on the vines gripping your throat until you nearly garrote yourself—

Now back, back, back into the corner, more humans here, more terror lacing every moment—there are lives here, real human people, they need you, they are going to die!—rune fading fast—matron, MATRON!—laughter bubbling from deep within you as you take your stand in front of the humans—hands shaking, knife gutting, knuckles swinging, club cracking, boots kicking, knife cutting, mouth drinking, knife cutting, knife cutting, knife cutting—

“ _ Frisk _ ?”

There—that voice—

“ _ Frisk _ !”

They were looking for you.

You gasped for breath, locked in a struggle with a particularly stout infected man, his sheer size nearly enough to strike you to the ground even without the failing vines and maddening eyes.

Your laughter grew and grew, your eyes rolling madly even as you braced against the man’s attack, your wrists shaking as you struggled to hold on to your weapons.

The rune was nearly faded.

From behind you one of the girls whom you had been protecting leapt forward, digging her thumbs into the man’s eyes just as he’d nearly pressed you to the ground. He roared and fell back, swinging crazily until you aimed true with your bat, cracking him hard over the head over and over until he lay still on the floor. 

You swung back to the girl, breathing heavily as you held out your spare knife. She did not hesitate to take it, her face grave. You spun back to the fray even as the enemy pushed closer, more and more closing in on your corner. There was whimpering behind you, and prayers.

You did not have the heart to tell them that the only god who could help had already been laid low.

It was up to you now.

You fought, and fought, and fought, and  _ fought _ , until you saw nothing else but where your knife would go, and heard nothing else but your heart pounding for your life, your face smeared and tongue coated in the blood of your enemies. You could feel the spark of life within each swipe of blood, and it was all that sustained your battle.

Still, it was not enough.

You knew this was the end.

You were going to die.

But your body didn’t stop fighting.

Your heart knew that you might die from each swipe, each crushing wrap of thorns—

But still you fought.

You fought until your quivering heart sat back up, emboldened by your body’s defiance.

No.

Not here.

Not to these enemies.

Maybe to the next—

—or the one who came after that—

But  _ not now _ !

As if your thoughts had been a battle-cry, there was suddenly a bright, blinding burst of light that exploded within the infirmary before dying back. The infected before you had been caught off guard by it, just long enough for you to strike her temple with your knuckles, collapsing her to the ground. 

It would only be temporary, you knew—you had already seen another infected body moving by the vines’ volition alone, even after you had slit the human’s throat—but it gave you enough time for your last-chance effort. Kicking away another infected onto the pile of bodies around you, you snatched up your old lamp and, with one warning look to the now-quite-large group of humans you’d rescued, dashed it to the floor.

Just as you’d thought—the vines both in the infected and without took to the fire like dry kindling, setting the entire pile ablaze within seconds. It created a wall of fire—flimsy, though it was—between your group and what felt like the entire infected infirmary now looking your way. It would only deter them for a few minutes at most, you knew—but that wasn’t why you’d done it. You’d put yourself and the group in danger because as soon as the blinding light had faded, you’d seen something that had given you a burst of hope.

Towering to the ceiling of the infirmary stood two strange, incredibly alien creatures that seemed fashioned from bone and jelly, light and blood. They glided through the air much like jellyfish in the sea, their dark-blue bulbous bodies bobbing along the ceiling ponderously even as their tentacle-like legs floated behind them. They were ethereal—unreal nightmares that somehow sent a wave of peace through to your heart.

You watched with a sick, dreadful fascination as some of the tentacles snagged on the bodies of what looked to be uninfected humans—if the terrified screams were to be believed—and slowly, steadily wrapped them up toward the body waiting above. You held your breath until it became clear that instead of what it appeared to be doing—eating them—it was merely holding them safe far above the battle.

You were snapped from your fascination as an infected leapt over the now-towering inferno you’d blocked your corner in with, barreling directly for you. You struck out with a startled cry, cursing yourself for your inattention as you were suddenly again fighting desperately for your life. It was only as your knife was already striking out to slice the neck of the attacker that you realised you recognised the face under the twisting vines.

Lilli.

You cried out and barely managed to redirect your attack at the last moment so that you struck across her chest instead. Blood welled up instantly from the slice, staining the gown she wore, but you had no time to worry on how much you’d hurt her as she had managed to tackle you to the floor. She had her knees on your arms to hold you down, her hands squeezing the sides of your head as she lifted you close to her twisted face. You gagged at the smell pouring from her gaping mouth, terror hammering at your heart. How could this have happened? Why her? Why did it have to be her?

“Lilli—Lilli, no—please, it’s me, it’s Frisk!” you babbled, kicking and bucking as best you could underneath her, but even though she had had quite a slight body without the infection, you now had little strength to fight against her. She snarled and slammed your head into the stone floor, sending an aureole of dizzying lights through your mind that highlighted the rune’s weakness. 

You heard some of the other people behind you screaming and begging for their lives, but you could not focus. Every breath you took was as if someone had just punched you in the gut, and you realised it was because she was now holding her thumbs against your neck in a vise grip. Your legs kicked uselessly as your vision pulsed and faded, your mind panicking with denial.

Then came an ear-splitting roar and all at once, it was over. You were left to roll over and cough and gasp for air, your knife digging against your breast bone. You looked around in confusion to see what had thrown Lilli from you with such strength, only to see both the most beautiful and yet most terrifying sight you’d ever seen.

Through the raging fire creeping ever closer, the brothers towered in the crowd, no lights in their eyes to make them appear even somewhat human. They fought viciously and efficiently as crowds of infected swarmed them, only to fall broken to the floor in the next second. Sans crushed the infected with one roaring swipe of his hand while commanding the skull-dog creature that danced around him with the other. And Papyrus, leaping from person to person like a spider hunting, sinking his teeth into their flesh before wrapping his body around them and bending his bones into shapes impossible for the human to mimic without breaking. Through their bones burned a bright blue fire, radiating from that secret spot within their chest. They looked like death incarnate, coming to collect their bounty from the war.

Though you could not stop the tiny human fright you felt at seeing the easy way they dealt death, you nearly cried with relief.

They were alive! Thank the Lord, they were alive!

You were distracted from your relief, though, when you heard a growl and a responding whine from behind you. You spun to see Lilli pinned against the wall, the dog’s teeth on either side of her ribs. Before you could think, you’d called out, “No! Stop, please!”

Even as you instantly regretted your words, the skull-dog reluctantly obeyed, easing off of Lilli until she had wriggled from him, her body moving in grossly inhuman ways. You staggered to your feet, both hands held out to her, though you still gripped your knife tight. You stood off against each other for a few moments, the flames now licking uncomfortably at your trousers’ legs. You didn’t want to shift away, though, and give Lilli the chance to attack any of the people you were protecting.

How? How? How?

How had this happened?

Why?

“Lilli—” you choked out, mind racing for any way to fix this. You knew you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t kill her. Even if Chara hated you for it—you couldn’t do it. “Please,” you whispered, the word lost to the cries of the battle.

You stared down Lilli’s twitching body desperately, locked in a battle of wills.

And then—suddenly—it was over. With only a slightly cocked head, as if she was listening to something only she could hear, Lilli turned and ran, stumbling back through the fire with no regard for her safety. You called after her, but did not follow, though part of you desperately wanted to. You forced yourself to stay, telling yourself you had a duty to protect the humans, but as it was, you hardly needed to. 

You watched with utter shock as one of the infected Sans was headed towards dodged away, sprinting all-out for the windows and crashing through one, followed by what seemed to be an endless stream of other possessed humans. You gaped for a few moments, watching their retreat with a growing hope in your heart that you had somehow won the battle before your stomach plummeted to your feet with one whispered, confused word—

**F…Frisk…?**

Your friend. Your friend was awake.

Your friend was awake and the rune was gone.

You swayed with utter despair before screaming, “Papyrus, Sans—Matron!”

Their heads swung around to find you, but you did not wait for them to respond. You directed the girl who had saved you earlier to keep the others safe before turning and sprinting through the fire, leaping over the worst of it. You felt your skin blister where it touched and part of your duster caught fire, but you could only shrug out of it and keep running, your whole self flying ahead to where you had left the matron. You heard shouts behind you, and crashing footsteps following, but you could not stop. You could not stop. You could  _ not— _

_ She was gone. _

There was only flowers covering the bed where she had lain, the window stripped free of vines.

The shutters clacked and clattered in the whipping wind.

The rain fell.

The mountain’s shadow had fallen over the Home.

The matron was gone.

“ _ Frisk _ !”

You did not turn from the window, your hands on the sill the only thing keeping you standing.

“ _ Frisk _ , answer us! What’s wrong?”

Your soul shook with fear as you were taken away from the window, bundled against the brothers’ bones, blood from their kills soaking through your shirt. You stared, suddenly empty of purpose. You had failed.

**Frisk, I—I’m—I’m sorry.**

“Frisk, say something, please!”

“They weren’t here for me.”

“What?” the brothers asked.

“They weren’t here for me,” you said again, your voice dull and heart hollow. “They came for her. They were here for the matron.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: heavy violence including blood, death, knives, guns, evisceration, arson
> 
> Next up: Frisk keeps moving.
> 
> tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+)
> 
> You found a Tumblr! It's strange, but the taste reminds you of _beeeepiiiiiiisssss~_
> 
> Your maximum energy level has increased.


	42. Consumption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk is consumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CHAPTER. PLEASE READ NOTES AND WARNINGS AT THE BOTTOM, BELOW THE ~~~**

 

Despite the hole in your heart that tried its best to convince you to lay down and sleep until sense returned to your world, you kept moving.

The Home kept moving.

The repair began almost immediately after the word got out that the matron had been taken. The first thing done had been to gather the sisters and nurses who could be spared from the infirmary and take them with you to cut down the others who had been caught by Muffet. The brothers insisted on checking for any sign of the spider woman herself before you’d gone, but there hadn’t been any, other than a trail of dust leading out to the front doors. The work itself was a long, grueling process, the web sticking to everything it touched. Eventually, though, every pod had been opened. Some of them held sisters who were still alive, though massively traumatised.

Some of them only held bodies.

There were so many bodies.

It took the best part of a day to get all of the bodies counted and accounted for—so many family names to take down—so many sheets to wrap around their stiffened limbs. You worked endlessly—monotonously—a machine in a factory of death.

Everyone did.

You did not fault those who had tears to shed and no strength to stand up and keep going.

You did not fault those who had none, and could.

It was all anyone knew to do, at a time like this.

It was all you knew to do.

So you kept moving.

Kept working.

Dug the pit for the bodies.

Dug, and dug, and dug.

Lined it with tarpaulin.

Wrapped the bodies.

Carried them to the tarpaulin outside.

Did not look at the eclipsed sun.

Walked back, wiping the blood off with a spare handkerchief.

Wrapped the next body.

At some point, someone came around with rudimentary sandwiches for lunch—dinner? You didn’t know, time meant little without the sun to guide it—but you only managed a few bites before your stomach knotted hard and you had to sit very still or risk throwing it all back up.

You thanked the small girl who had given you the sandwich, offering her the rest of yours, and turned back to the bodies.

There were so many bodies.

The rain fell.

The rain fell on the bodies.

The ground was wet and muddy and you slipped.

You fell in the mud, but the body you carried did not.

You placed them carefully on the pile, their face carved in your eyes.

Did not look at the eclipsing moon.

You wiped your hands on the handkerchief.

Went back inside.

Wrapped the bodies.

Placed the last body found.

Stood at the lip of the pit, cleaning your hands on your handkerchief.

Hands wouldn’t come clean.

Sister came to you—what shall we do about the broken windows?

The broken doors?

The beds?

The vines, the web?

The bedclothes need washing.

The bodies—the bodies needed to be—

But that would have to wait for the rain to stop.

What to do?

How should you know?

What to do.

So you kept working.

You hammered at the beds and windowsills, repairing the broken.

The glass would have to wait.

The mattresses would have to wait.

There was a lot that would have to wait.

You took another sandwich.

It tasted of wood shavings and iron.

You gave it to a woman who had lost her leg to one of the attackers.

Some recompense.

You held down limbs and heads and chests as the nurses sewed and hacked and repaired the injured.

They thanked you, even when the patient did not survive the surgery.

You watched them cover another body with a white sheet.

Onto the pile.

You took another sandwich.

It tasted of infection and antiseptic.

You gave it to a little boy who had lost his mother to a rampaging mob in the city.

Some recompense.

You put on leather gloves and set yourself against the masses of vines and webs and flowers and stones and wood.

You yanked and dug and hauled until there was only the lamps and shadows left.

You took another sandwich.

It tasted of dust and sweat.

You gave it to Undyne, who had who had lost an eye fighting for humans she had no reason to protect.

Some…

Flowers had begun to grow from under the tarpaulin.

There was a spark of something from deep within you, some white hot fury that you squashed easily.

You stood vigil beside the grave.

The rain stopped eventually.

You listened to the sound of hymns sung in the chapel as you watched the bodies burn.

You took another sandwich.

It tasted of ashes and flower.

You gave it to no one.

Sister again—there is someone on the telephone for the matron.

What do we…

You wiped your hands on your handkerchief.

You walked between the halls, now clean of web, of vines.

Now dirty with nightmares.

You sat at the matron’s desk, speaking softly into the receiver.

You had no idea what they’d said.

You had no idea what you’d said.

But you said it, nevertheless.

After the receiver was back on the cradle, you sat very still in the chair.

The cabinet behind you—you could feel it.

It was still open.

The door to your side.

It was also still open.

There was blood spilling out from the lip of the secret room.

And on the desk, there was blood waiting in a vial marked with a single letter.

You wiped your hands on your handkerchief.

You told yourself you should clean the blood.

Put the weapons back where they belonged.

Shut the door to the room.

That there was work to be done.

But you…

You sat on the chair.

You sat very still.

And breathed.

In…out…in…out…

You could smell her.

Brandy, herbs, and sweet mint oil.

You could smell her here.

You sat very still.

The shadows danced on the wall across from you.

And you breathed.

**Frisk.**

You startled, hands tightening on your handkerchief.

It took you a few moments to relax, but you managed.

You hadn’t expected your friend to speak. They had been quiet since the attack, so much so that at times you wondered if they were even with you anymore. Sometimes you knew they weren’t, fully. You could feel them shift away—leave you, presumably to go to Papyrus.

And then you understood why they had spoken.

They found you sitting in the chair, moments after your friend had spoken.

“Frisk,” Papyrus said, his voice paper-thin and rough as he approached the desk slowly, as if trying to snare a rabbit in the forest.

Were you the rabbit?

Behind Papyrus, Sans shut the door, turning to you with a solemn, knowing look.

Ah, yes. It seemed you were.

**They’re only worried for you.**

You looked between them, eyebrows raised.

“It’s been days, Frisk.”

Your eyes settled on Sans. “Aye?”

“ _Aye_ ,” he threw back at you, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you think…”

Your gaze swung to Papyrus.

“Well,” he said, coming to stop at the edge of the desk across from you. “Don’t you think you should eat something? Maybe—maybe sleep?”

Your brows lifted further. “Sleep.”

“We-ell…”

A realisation bloomed in your mind. “So that’s why they have been leaving me.”

Papyrus had the good manners to look uncomfortable. “We thought it might… _encourage_ you to get some rest.”

You nodded slowly, mulling that over.

“You need to sleep, Frisk.”

You looked dully at Sans, a streak of frustrated obstinacy sparking through you.

“You need to eat.”

You only blinked.

“You need to accept the fact that they’re gone.”

You flinched as though struck, though Sans’s words weren’t spoken harshly. You barely caught Papyrus’s swift look of frustration aimed at his brother, but you definitely saw the sympathy in them when he turned back to you. You tried desperately not to read that look as pity. You didn’t imagine Papyrus was capable of pity.

“Maybe if you talked about it with someone? About losing them?”

“Someone being you two?” you snapped without meaning to, twisting your handkerchief hard enough to fray. As soon as the words were out, though, you took a shuddering, gasping breath and shook your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so…” You trailed off, giving another shake of your head and looking Papyrus straight in the eyes, despite the pain you felt at his nervousness. “I’ve accepted it. There is no need to talk about it further.”

“Are you sure?” Papyrus asked after a few moments of tense silence and an exchange of glances with his brother. He sat awkwardly in one of the chairs across the desk from you, his limbs folding up to fit in the tiny space. For a single flash, you saw his eyes empty of light and his hands tearing apart the body of an infected woman as easily as a child tearing apart a rag-doll, and you froze, a hissing breath catching between your teeth. It took only another moment before the smells and screams faded once more and you forced your hands to still. You realised the brothers were watching you with hawk-like eyes, both faces purposefully devoid of expression. You clenched your jaw. “Frisk, are you _s—”_

“Yes.”

Sans crossed his arms over his chest. Papyrus worried at a hole in his shirt.

“ _Yes_ , I am _sure_ ,” you repeated firmly.

**Frisk.**

“I’m _sure_!” you snapped again, slapping your handkerchief on the desk. “I’m sure, I’m sure, I’m sure! Is that enough surety for the three of you, or do you require my signature in blood stating that I do not require psychiatric assistance for my grief?”

There was a crushing silence in the room after your outburst.

Then, “That might be for the best, really. Would you mind?”

You gaped at Sans for only a heartbeat before you noticed the slight twitch to his mouth. “ _Sans_ ,” you sighed in wondrous disbelief.

“That’s hardly appropriate, Sans, I think you should apologise,” Papyrus said, frowning up at his brother.

“No, he’s right,” you said, cutting off whatever reply Sans had opened his mouth to give. “It’s—I’m being unreasonable.”

“I don’t think you’re being unreasonable,” Papyrus said, his chin on his palm. “I think you’re hurting, and a little lost, but—but not _unreasonable_.”

You had to swallow down the hysterical laugh that threatened to explode from you. “A—a little lost.”

The words echoed in your mind, over and over—a little lost, a little lost, a little lost, a little lost—like a gramophone caught on a groove, until your friend softly placed their hand over your mind, muffling the sound. You felt another giggle lifting at that, but you managed to stuff that down also.

Papyrus gave you a close, searching look, as if he was trying to parse something from you. You held his gaze, though part of you squirmed uncomfortably, as if you’d been caught undressing.

When he spoke, it was very cautiously—very slowly—as if he didn’t want to scare you away. “Why haven’t you drank her blood yet?”

Your head snapped back and your breath caught painfully in your lungs. You couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

You reached for your handkerchief, but it was on the desk, next to the vial.

Hands trembling terribly, you re-settled them in your lap, trying to convince yourself you hadn’t reached for anything in the first place.

How had he known?

How could he know about that?

There was no way he had heard her—no way she had spoken to him about it—no way even that your friend could have heard—

_Oh_.

Oh, so that’s how.

You turned a sharp, angry gaze to the dancing shadows at the wall, refusing to acknowledge your friend, though you could feel them flinch away.

They had _stolen_ it. Stolen the memory.

“I’m not going to do that,” was all you said, through clenched teeth.

The brothers exchanged another look.

**The matron told us—**

“The matron was very sick when she said that to _me_ ,” you ground out, denial lacing through your words. Even though it wasn’t a lie, you knew you were being obtuse.

**She wanted us to use it if she—**

“Stop. The discussion is over. I’m not going to drink it.”

Papyrus looked doubly concerned, and more than a little confused. “But it was her last wish.”

“No,” you said, your throat beginning to ache and swell, though your eyes were dry as dust. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

You didn’t want to talk about it—you didn’t want to even consider it. Because if you considered it—if you took that vial and upended it—

You took a deep breath, eyes squeezing shut.

Brandy, herbs, and sweet mint oil.

“She’s dead, Frisk.”

Your eyes shot open, mouth falling into a surprised ‘o’.

“Is that what you need to hear?”

You gaped at Sans, your heart clenching and stomach knotting.

He came forward slowly, his gait seeming casual on the surface, but you could see the tension beneath.

“It doesn’t matter if you drink her blood or not, because she’s dead.”

“Shut your mouth, Sans,” you gasped breathlessly, your hands reaching, grasping for your handkerchief like a baby mewling for its mother. You turned away from the brothers, scrubbing the foul dirt from your hands. You could feel it crawling up your arms, leaking down from your heart, pressing at your mind until you thought it might burst your skull and wriggle over your broken body. You heard a low growl and looked up to see Sans stomping around the desk before he snatched your handkerchief from you and threw it aside. When you reared up in anger, he took your shoulders roughly and snarled,

“ _Stop_! Stop trying to cleanse yourself of the failure—stop trying to erase something that had nothing to do with you!”

You found yourself gaping again, though your breath was coming fast and hard, and you worked to wrench yourself free of his grip. You took a few stumbling steps back, your legs knocking the chair away.

“Sans, maybe we should—”

“ _No_ , ‘Pyrus, we really shouldn’t,” Sans snapped to his brother, though he still held your gaze. “We’ve _been_ leaving her alone and she’s done nothing but disappear more and more every day!”

“I’m just wondering if maybe this is something we can’t understand—about humans, a-about how they grieve,” Papyrus said, the confusion in his voice cracking your heart open with every word. You struggled to keep the apathy you’d built around yourself from breaking apart, but Papyrus’s tender concern and Sans’s raw desperation were chipping it away faster than you could rebuild it. You were choking on the words you knew you would have to say, but you couldn’t—you just couldn’t tell them how you were— “Maybe they always blame themselves for the deaths of loved ones.”

Sans shook his head sharply, though his eyes were unsure.

You couldn’t hold down the hiccough of hysterical despair.

Papyrus came into your field of view, holding a hand to Sans’s shoulder, though his eyes were also on you. Your hands itched for something—anything—and lit on your pendants, digging the edges into your palm. Papyrus gave you a sympathetic smile, small and sad. “Is that it, Frisk? Is that why you’ve been hurting yourself?”

Hearing the truth out in the open took your breath away, and you had to shake your head, looking up to the ceiling, to keep the burning behind your eyes at bay. “I’m—I’m not—”

**You don’t have to lie. No one is going to think less of you.**

You shook your head again, gritting your teeth. “I haven’t been hurting myself. I just—I’m just so—” _Lost_ . _Lost, lost, lost_. The bodies, you buried the bodies, so many bodies, you buried them all, you burned their bodies, you buried them all—

You took a deep, deep breath, unable to keep the tears inside any longer. They streamed down your cheeks in fast rivulets, the well of grief inside you finally overflowing. “They’re gone and—and if it wasn’t for what I’d done—if I hadn’t lost control—if I hadn’t gone to the city—” you were coughing out the words by the end, taking gulping, shuddering breaths that made it difficult to speak. Your heart quivered and quailed, thinking of all you’d done, of everyone you’d had to bury. You thought of the bodies you didn’t get to bury. Zachary—the constable—William—Iris—Lilli— _the_ _matron—_

You made a sound that was unmistakably a sob, though you tried to deny it. You were stronger than that—stronger than grief. Everyone in the Home needed you. They needed you to be strong, but how could—how could you—

“They’re gone,” you said again, shaking your head with hollow wonder, the senselessness of death overcoming your ability to fight. “I failed, and they’re gone.”

You looked back up just as Papyrus enveloped you, lifting you to your tip-toes in a gentle, but strong embrace. You stood stiff against him, forehead pressed against his sternum as his soul fluttered softly on the other side. You brought trembling hands up to his ribs, hooking your fingertips against them gently. Your entire body shook with adrenaline, though there was no battle to be fought.

And then Sans joined the embrace, his sturdy bones sliding around your back and breaking the rest of the dam around your heart, crumbling it to pieces without a word.

You fought against the painful sobs at first, but only for a moment. You weren’t strong enough to stop them from bursting out of you—huge, ugly, full of the lifetime of sorrow you’d endured. You shifted one hand to cling to Sans’s arm while Papyrus whispered comforting nonsense in your ear, drowning out the raging disgust that welled up from a dark, deep place within you. You rode it out, keening with the pain and confusion of losing so much in such a short time. You didn’t know how to keep going. You didn’t know how to stop. You’d been empty since you’d stood at that window, gazing at the face of the mountain—looking into the maw that had been swallowing every piece of you, bit by bit. That still gaped with ravenous glee, ready and waiting for you to leap into it. You felt like a curse on everyone who touched you, pulling them into the mire that was built for you to suffer in.

“I know, I know, I know,” Papyrus breathed against your skin, his breath hot and short as he nuzzled against your neck. “But it’s not you—it’s not your doing. You aren’t a curse. Never a curse.”

“It’s not you—if you weren’t here, it would have consumed someone else’s life, someone else’s love—because that’s just what it does,” Sans said, his teeth in the semblance of a kiss against your hair. “We were born to be pawns, but that doesn’t mean we have to live like them.”

You realised you’d spoken aloud, and tightened your grip on the brothers as they responded to your unbidden confession. They returned in kind, holding you hard enough to take your breath away. You felt your friend hesitate within you, their thoughts as loud as if they had spoken, though they had not. You could feel their own guilt—foreign and alarming for them—and their sorrow for what had happened. You could feel that they wanted to comfort you, as well, but they weren’t sure of how welcome it would be.

You took a deep breath, the scents of the brothers mixing together in a heady, bolstering concoction that gave you the strength to open yourself fully to your friend. They wasted no time, rushing to drape themselves against your body, an invisible cloak that warmed you from the inside. You held very still, drinking in the feeling of being surrounded by those who loved you.

But…but did…

You flinched at the stray thought, a bolt of panic striking you.

**Why would you think that?**

Was it, was it, was it?

You could feel the fingers of influence.

Did that mean that nothing was real?

**Of course this is real.**

With strangled breath, you turned your face into Papyrus’s neck, gasping hot in the bubble between the brothers’ bodies.

“Frisk?” came Papyrus’s whisper, his cheek brushing against yours as he pulled back hesitantly.

You felt something shift inside you. Your stomach gnawed. Your legs went weak—too warm.

“What is wrong?” you heard Papyrus say, his voice entwined with your friend’s, **What is wrong?**

There was a beat of silence before he continued with, “What do you need?”

You looked into his eyes for only a moment, searching them for the answer to a question you never asked.

Before you could find it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his mouth.

His response was slow, measured. As if he didn’t want to move too fast or too suddenly. As if you would break.

You immediately set to proving that you wouldn’t.

Snaking the hand that had rested on his ribs up to the back of his head, you pressed your lips tighter to his mouth, your breath catching when his teeth pricked your skin. You tasted blood. It sent a dizzying rush through you, and you deliberately stabbed your tongue against one of his canines, squirming as white light bloomed in the corners of your eyes. God above, _yes_ , it hurt. It hurt, and your heart stumbled to keep up with the rush of excitement it caused, your neck prickling with goosebumps. Papyrus’s and Chara’s total stillness before they both let loose a great, shuddering moan at the taste of your blood was enough to send another flood of shivers through you. As you kissed Papyrus again, relishing in the way his soul thumped against his chest with every swipe of your blood-drenched tongue against his quickly-forming one, you threaded your hand through Sans’s, fingers curling tight around his.

That was when you noticed how stiff and still he was behind you, completely unmoving despite your obvious desire. You broke away from Papyrus reluctantly, turning in the brothers’ arms so that you faced Sans. You reached up, nearly pulling him into a kiss as well before you saw the strange look marring his face. There was desire there, yes, but also confusion, and oddly enough, fear. No…not fear—terror. He was _terrified_ at the sight of you, and your heart twisted with pain.

“Sans,” you whispered, dropping your hands away quickly. As soon as you spoke, his arm slid out from around you and he retreated several steps, his eyes haunted by something inside him. You swallowed the budding disgust you felt for yourself. This obviously wasn’t about you.

“It’s okay,” you continued, still speaking soft and slow. “It’s okay. It’s just me. You don’t have to—you _never_ have to. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry; we can stop. Right, Papyrus?” You leaned back against Papyrus’s chest, hands at his arms wrapped around your waist. You felt his concern for his brother wash over you as he nodded—the bond between you, Chara, and him must have connected deeper at some point. You wished suddenly that Sans had taken the bond as well—you wanted nothing more than to say to him without your useless words just how sorry you were for scaring him. You hadn’t thought he would—you hadn’t thought it would—you hadn’t _thought_. You’d only acted, drowning in your own pathetic needs.

**Don’t. You didn’t know how it would—**

Chara was cut off by your own startled gasp as Sans, with a shake of his head and a savage growl, closed the distance between you again and pushed you firmly back onto the desk, sprawling you against Papyrus as the wood dug into the backs of your thighs.

“Sans?” you asked breathlessly, clinging to Papyrus’s leg bones to steady yourself as you looked up at Sans bearing down on you, his eyes bright and focused. “But—I thought—”

“Stop thinking.”

You had no choice but to obey his command as he followed it with a searing kiss. You met his kiss with fervor, your eyes closing tight when his teeth scraped and nipped your already-bruised tongue, his breath too hot as his tongue sparked to life to lap at the beads of blood. One of your hands flew to the back of his skull, your nails scraping the bone as Papyrus buried his face against your neck, his hands sliding from your hips up to your stomach. His fingertips teased at your shirt until the hem came free of your trousers. While he ran one hand up onto your breast, enveloping and kneading it viciously, Sans’s tongue pushed into your mouth, muffling your moans. When Chara’s warmth deepened, spread, and took on a tingling sense to it as they ran many fingers across the tops of your thighs, you couldn’t stop another, loader moan.

Papyrus had both hands on your breasts now, his hard fingers catching your nipples between them and tweaking them roughly as he tested a gentle bite against your neck. Sans’s hands gripped your hips, rubbing circles against the skin that had been exposed there by your trousers shifting down. When you caught his tongue with your teeth just as he pulled it out, he made a sharp hiss and began filling and leaving your mouth rhythmically in a way that set your sex aflame. You found your hands drifting on both of the brothers—snaking backward on Papyrus to rub higher on his thigh bone and up to where his hips cradled against your bottom, and down to Sans’s chest, feeling the hard thumps of his soul against his sternum, unknowingly matching his brother’s rhythm at your back.

You were becoming overwhelmed very quickly, and yet you wanted more. You wanted to savour the feeling, yet you also wanted it faster than this. You wondered if they would oblige you if you asked them to fuck you raw.

Your eyes shot open with surprise as Chara gave a low laugh and tweaked the nub at the top of your sex just as Sans dug his fingertips into your thighs hard enough to bruise and Papyrus bit your neck, stealing your breath away. You whimpered and squirmed, taking a fistful of Sans’s shirt to steady yourself as heat pooled between your thighs, your sex already throbbing with need.

**What was that, sweetheart? You want it again?**

Before you could respond, they did it again, flicking their shadowed fingers against you once, twice, again—again—again—ahh— _ahhhhh_ —you were—you were going to—

**Not yet.**

Just as suddenly as they had begun stroking you, they stopped, and you whimpered again through your groan, Sans’s rough kisses stealing most of the sound away. You were left pulsing and wet, aching with the lack of touch you so desperately needed. Your head spun with the heat crushing you, heart thundering at the sounds of the brothers’ fast, aroused breath against your face and neck. When you groaned, Sans lifted your hips up and against him, spreading your legs to press you into the hardness in his trousers, breaking your kiss to lean back and look deep in your eyes as he bucked against you, slow and deliberate.

One of Papyrus’s hands worked the fastener off of your trousers with ease before slipping inside, trailing them through your hair before stroking hard and slow against your hot nub. You panted to catch your breath, your head falling back against Papyrus’s shoulder as the brothers teased you. You licked your lips as you held Sans’s gaze, tasting your blood and the odd, but delicious flavour of his tongue on them. You shuddered and rocked against the brothers, your moans building with each thrust—each tweak—each bite—each lick—each stroke that brought you closer and closer to ecstasy.

**Cheeky boy, I said she wasn’t allowed.**

You growled with frustration as Papyrus’s hand stiffened and stilled, but it soon ended on desire as you felt his body shudder and buck against your bottom as Sans thrust you down onto him. You realised that Chara must be teasing him the same way they did you, and moved your hand to cup and rub your palm against his hardness. You had a brief moment of wonder for the magic behind it, but Sans’s heavy, panting grunts as he leaned harder into each thrust distracted you completely.

You shifted your hand onto his hip, pulling him in against you as he slammed you down again and again, the desk creaking under you and Papyrus as the three of you rutted wildly. Sans leaned his body down over you as he buried his face against the other side of your neck, his and Papyrus’s breaths fanning down your tented shirt as they began to give short, quiet moans.

“Frisk, Frisk, _oh my g_ — _yes_ , _fuck—”_

“Please— _please_ —I need—”

Your pleasure rocketed at the soft, desperate rambles of passion the brothers spoke against your neck, their teeth sending little shocks of painful pleasure through you with each nip and bite. You reached inwardly for Chara and met their hand and another broken laugh as they worked both you and Papyrus in tandem. You could feel how much pleasure they got from teasing both of you to the edge before dropping away, numbing your nerves just enough to cut you off. Your back arched into Papyrus’s hand as he gripped your breast hard, rhythmically in time with each of his and Sans’s thrusts. You were so close. You just needed—just needed a little—a little more—a little more and—

**Be a good girl and beg for it.**

“ _Please_ !” you cried breathlessly without hesitation. “Please, oh _please_ —”

**Not yet.**

You whined, your head thrashing to the side with frustration before your gaze came to rest back on Sans. “Chara, please,” you whimpered pitifully.

As if your words had sent him into a fury, Sans’s eyes sharpened and he stilled for a single second, not even long enough for you to protest before he’d hooked his fingers in the waist of your trousers and ripped them off fully. You gasped softly at his viciousness, especially when Papyrus followed suit and tore your shirt open. It only took you a moment for you to adjust to being exposed to the brothers for the first time before you shrugged out of the shirt and watched Sans study you with hungry eyes. Something flashed across his face too quick to understand, but you didn’t have time to worry about it before he’d taken hold of the top of your hips and tugged you down the desk, kneeling between your legs.

**_Ohhh, yesss—_ ** **that’s what we wanted.**

The desk edge dug into you as Sans hooked your knees over his shoulders, his face nudging your thighs apart insistently. Your breath caught at the first tickle of his tongue and the brush of Papyrus’s hardness against your cheek. You turned into it, nuzzling against the magic. It smelled both sweet and musky, like a woman aroused or the sweat of a man who had worked hard. Your eyelids fell closed as you arched your neck to mouth the hardness there, basking in the sharp inhalations punctuated with moans that came from Papyrus. You were surprised to find it shifting beneath your tongue, until it was much softer, with something like lips forming.

You tugged at his trousers until they slipped low enough for you to mould your face against the invisible magic, your tongue finding purchase between the soft simulated lips. You groaned raggedly when Sans mimicked you, his teeth clamping down into the flesh around your pussy, his hot tongue laving at your nub as you did the same to Papyrus’s magic, your fingers teasing up his hips to hold onto his spine. He shifted enough to give you better access, his fingers teasing through your hair and gripping it hard when you buried your tongue deep into him. He tugged at your hair with a loud whimper, bucking against you and sending you down onto Sans’s waiting tongue, plunging it deep inside you.

**Yesss—** **_yesss—_ **

You moaned high and weak into Papyrus’s magic, curling your tongue into him as Sans did the same to you, invading you deeply. With every wriggling push of his tongue it curled inside you, sliding against the sensitive spot deep within and further beyond, sending little twinging bolts of pain through you. There was a deep, slow buildup starting within you that you’d never felt before, both in your pussy and your chest. It built and built and built until you were gasping into Papyrus, writhing against Sans’s face, crossing your legs around his head to pull him closer. Though— there was still something—something you needed—

**Papyrus, sweetheart, my love—** **_ohh, fuck, yes_ ** **, do that again, Frisk—** **_fuck_ ** **!—** **_ahhh_ ** **, Papyrus, would you mind…?**

Before you could question what it was that Chara wanted Papyrus to do, he had softly wrapped a hand around your neck and put the smallest pressure against it. Your eyes snapped open, peering up at him through the fall of your hair as you continued tonguing him, your hand stroking along his spine up to his ribs, your fingertips hooking over the bones there. Was he—?

_Ahhh, God—yes, yes, fuck yes_!

The moment you’d met his burning, loving gaze, he’d clamped his hand harder, restricting your breath just enough to make lights dance around the edges of your vision. You couldn’t breathe more than in short gasps as he leaned further over you, almost riding your face. Coupled with Sans’s teeth biting hard into your flesh around his tongue fucking you, and Chara tweaking at your nub and nipples, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

Especially when you began to see little flicks of other images sent to you—yourself, bent into such an eager form as the brothers pleasured you, mouth full of Papyrus’s magic sex, your breasts rocking as you thrust down onto Sans’s tongue—and Sans himself, eyes aflame from beneath lowered brows, looking drunk with the taste of you, one of his hands gripping hard onto your thigh while the other was thrust inside his trousers. Your moans were growing louder and more insistent as you built toward ecstasy even through Chara’s muting of your nerves. The roughness of the brothers—the pain, the breathlessness, the pressure—all of it worked to push you faster, until before you knew it, you were squealing with pleasure, jerking into both of them wildly, right at the edge—

And then Chara let your feelings free, and you came hard enough to completely take your breath away, your eyes wide as you shuddered and thrashed, rolling your hips into Sans’s tongue to the sound of Chara’s deep, dark moans joining yours. You knew in an instant that they had done the same to Papyrus as he followed you soon after, your tongue still thrusting even though your vision had narrowed from him smothering you in the taste of him.

But you weren’t finished with them, and it was clear that they weren’t finished with you, either.

With a grunting snarl from Sans, he stood once more, his hands hard on your hips even as you sat up slightly. You got a moment to take a quick breath a Papyrus shifted one hand onto his magic, where it was becoming hard and long against your back once more. Sans moved forward, spreading your legs uncomfortably wide and yanking his trousers down enough to free the magic that he wasted no time thrusting into you. Your mouth fell open in surprise as his magic pushed your walls taut. You only got a second to adjust to the fullness before he was rocking against you, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that almost scared you.

**Good—** **_fuck!_ ** **Oh** **_fuck_ ** **!—** **_good_ ** **. Being scared is** **_good_ ** **.**

You clung to Papyrus’s shoulders as you quickly built to another orgasm. You squirmed and arched into Papyrus’s tight grasp, Chara still working your oversensitive nub as Sans rutted, his magic pushing hard and deep enough to hurt. Papyrus was panting hot in your ear, the sound and his frantic palming of his own magic urging you on.

“God—Sans, please—please, harder—” you gasped through Papyrus’s hand, saliva dribbling from your lips as he choked you tighter. “Please! I need—! I need it harder!”

His eyes were practically aflame when he obliged, bearing into you and thrusting his hips hard enough to rock the desk, pain flaring up within your pussy. Yes, fuck, _yes_! Yes, that was it—you were—you going to—

Before you could think to prolong yourself you came again, the walls of your sex throbbing and flexing around Sans as Papyrus held your neck so tight your vision went a fuzzy white. You made little gasping whines as Sans continued relentlessly fucking you through your orgasm, until you were coming again, your body so overwhelmed that you barely noticed the pressure building tight as a coil inside your chest. You cried out desperately, your fingers scraping and scrabbling against Papyrus’s shuddering bones, Sans’s feral growls filling your ears as he _kept going_ —

And then, just as your walls flexed you over the edge once more, the pressure in your chest exploding as your eyes closed, Sans slammed into you once—twice—and stilled except for small, jerky thrusts, his ragged breath joining Papyrus’s.

After a few moments of complete stillness between the four of you where you took your time dragging the breath back into your lungs, you opened your eyes to a beautiful, terrifying sight.

Floating above you, drifting towards each other slowly but purposefully, were three heart-shaped objects. Two of them were a muted dove grey with a slight blue sheen barely visible at the edges, and you recognised instantly that those were the brothers’ souls. The other—yours, you realised with a distant wonder—was a deep, angry red. Through it was stitched the suggestion of shadow, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. That was them—that was _Chara_. They were so beautiful, and yet—

“What—what is happening?” you panted, your voice hoarse and raw. “What are they—?”

“Bond,” Papyrus whispered.

“Our souls are bonding,” Sans whispered as well, eyes wide with wonder, though there was something behind it.

Something like…

…fear.

The same fear you’d seen on him before.

What was there to fear about a bond? Wasn’t it beautiful, the three souls dancing around each other, closer and closer, their colour and light merging softly at the edges. It was peaceful; as natural as coming home. It was—

**Wait…**

Hm?

**Wait!** **_No_ ** **!**

Chara’s terror was loud and immediate, and you jerked with responding, gut-twisting fright, but it was

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_T                                                O                                           O_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_L                       A                                         T                  E_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA** **_AAAAAAAA_ **  

 

 

 

F                                         F                                            F                                 F                                       F                                          F                                                       F

 

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

 

Walls broke

 

 

WHAT WHAT WHA T WHAT WHAT IS **WHAT IS WHAT IS WHAT** **_WHAT WHAT_ ** **what** what is what What is what is what what What What

 

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

HAA   APEN      AAAP  APEN AP IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

 

 

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

 

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIiiiiii

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

 

 

FFFFFF

 

Shadows poured in

 

SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHSSHHHHHHHSHHHHHHHHHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

 

 

You were swept away

 

ESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESEYESYESYESYESYESE

 

In madness

 

 

 

In milking dark

 

 

 

In in in

 

 

 

Oh, what was that?

 

 

 

That was that was

 

 

 

THAT WASN’T THEM NO THAT WASN’T THEM THAT WASN’T THAT WASN’T THEM THAT WASN’T IT ISN’T IT ISN’T THEM NOT THEM NO NO NOT

 

 

 

How could it be

 

 

 

How could it be that way after all these years

 

 

 

Oh god

 

 

 

God in heaven!

 

 

 

Was that

 

 

 

Was it going to

 

 

 

it did

 

 

 

It split apart, merged, melted

 

 

 

Became something new

 

 

 

Flesh

 

 

 

Flesh inside you

 

 

 

Flesh of your flesh

 

 

 

Magic of their magic

 

 

 

Soul of souls

 

 

 

But not alive

 

 

 

No

 

 

 

Not alive

 

 

 

Not alive

 

 

 

Not alive but it grew

 

 

 

It took the souls and it grew

 

 

 

Your belly grew

 

 

 

Oh GOD IT WAS INSIDE YOU

 

 

 

IT WAS

 

 

 

IT WAS

 

 

 

no please oh please oh no oh please don’t oh my god no please I’ll do anything I’ll do anything I’ll do anything if you

 

There was pain

 

There was pain

 

There was pain

 

There was Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain WAS Pain Pain Pain             Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain was Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain THERE WAS Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain was Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain WAS Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain  Pain Pain Pain Pain                        Pain

Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain There was Pain Pain Pain Pain

 Pain was Pain there wasPain wasPain there Pain Pain Pain Pain

THERE WAS PAIN

 

 

Pain

 

Pain

 

Pain

 

Pain

 

Pain

 

PAIN

 

PAIN

 

PAIN

 

PAIN

 

PAIN

 

PAIN

 

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

**IT WASN'T MEANT TO EXIST**

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

 

**PAIN**

 

**_PAIN_ **

 

**_PAIN_ **

 

**_PAIN_ **

 

**_PAIN_ **

 

**_PAIN_ **

**_PAIN_ **

 

 

 

**_PAIN_ **

 

 

**_PAIN_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then it was over

 

But you were

 

All of you

 

Somewhere else

 

Somewhere cold

 

Somewhere hot

 

Somewhere

 

Every

 

Where

 

And if the shifting visions dancing around you

 

Were real

 

Then

 

Every

 

When

 

As well.

 

You clung to both of them.

 

With hands like dumb clay

 

Like baked earth

 

Clinging to dust and hope

 

While every

 

Every

 

Everything happened around you

 

All at once

 

There, there, there

 

The birth again

 

Two, though, there were two

 

Oh! And two then, as well.

 

Life, death

 

Drew them

 

Their eyes wide with greedy curiosity

 

And when they asked

 

Whispering in the night to the shadows stretched across time

 

The places where the door was thin enough to hear through

 

They took

 

They fought for it

 

Oh yes they fought

 

They fought and killed and locked them all away

 

Because this was their world now

 

And surely it always had been

 

Yes, it always had been

 

Until

 

UNTIL

 

NO, no, no NO you can’t come here you can’t have

 

YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM

 

THEY DIDN’T ASK FOR YOU

 

You can’t—

 

What is

 

Everything was

 

Gone

 

Everything had never

 

Happened?

 

Or had it always happened?

 

Drifting, drifting

 

Unsure

 

Past

 

Present?

 

Always in the future that had

 

Died a long time ago

 

Dead drifting

 

Soft places to nestle

 

To make sharp and hungry

 

The perfect places

 

To find their way

 

When they had lost it so long ago

 

And then...

 

Oh

 

Yes, yes, you understood

 

What about those two?

 

What did they think?

 

They

 

They couldn’t see them?

 

Then why

 

Were they screaming so loud

 

What did they see

 

That was so

 

_no_

 

_OhhhhhhhhhhhNONONONO_

 

_NO, DON’T LOOK_

 

_DON’T LOOK HERE_

 

_DON’T PLEASE_

 

_WE CAN’T_   

**_PAINIPAINPAINWPAINIPAINLPAINLPAINPAINHPAINAPAINVPAINEPAINPAINPAINYPAINPAINOPAINPAINUPAINPAINYPAINOPAINPAINPAINUPAINPAINTPAINPAINPAINHPAINPAINPAINIPAINNPAINKPAINPAINIPAINPAINTPAINPAINWPAINIPAINLPAINLPAINBPAINPAINEPAINOPAINPAINVPAINEPAINRPAINPAINPAINSPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINOPAINPAINOPAINPAINNPAINPAINTPAINPAINPAINHPAINAPAINPAINTPAINPAINTPAINHPAINIPAINPAINSPAINPAINIPAINPAINSPAINPAINTPAINHPAINEPAINPAINEPAINNPAINDPAINPAINBPAINPAINUPAINTPAINIPAINPAINWPAINIPAINPAINLPAINPAINPAINLPAINNPAINPAINEPAINPAINVPAINEPAINRPAINPAINSPAINTPAINOPAINPAINPPAINIPAINPAINTPAINPAINIPAINSPAINPAINMPAINPAINPAINYPAINPAINPAINWPAINPAINOPAINRPAINLPAINDPAINPAINIPAINPAINAPAINMPAINPAINPAINTPAINHPAINPAINEPAINPAINMPAINPAINPAINAPAINSPAINTPAINEPAINRPAINPAINOPAINPAINFPAINPAINTPAINPAINHPAINIPAINPAINSPAINPAINRPAINPAINEPAINPAINAPAINLPAINIPAINPAINTPAINPAINYPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAINPAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAINPAIN **_PAINPAIN_ ** PAIN **_PAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAINPAIN **_PAINPAIN_ ** PAIN **_PAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ ** PAINPAINPAIN **_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINSPAINPAINPAINRPAINPAINEPAINPAINTPAINPAINSPAINPAINAPAINPAINMPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINNPAINPAINWPAINPAINOPAINPAINRPAINPAINIPAINPAINEPAINHPAINPAINPAINTPAINEPAINPAINRPAINAPAINPAINYPAINPAINEPAINPAINHPAINPAINTPAINPAINNPAINPAINIPAINEPAINVPAINIPAINGPAINPAINRPAINEPAINPAINVPAINEPAINPAINNPAINPAINLPAINPAINLPAINPAINIPAINPAINWPAINYPAINPAINPAINEPAINPAINHPAINPAINTPAINPAINPAINPAINFPAINPAINOPAINPAINEPAINLPAINPAINBPAINAPAINPPAINPAINAPAINPAINPAINPAINCPAINEPAINPAINRPAINPAINAPAINPAINYPAINPAINEPAINPAINHPAINPAINPAINTPAINTPAINAPAINPAINHPAINWPAINPAINAPAINEPAINDPAINPAINIPAINPAINOPAINPAINNPAINPAINPAINEPAINVPAINAPAINHPAINUPAINOPAINYPAINEPAINPAINRPAINPAINPAINEPAINPAINHPAINPAINHPAINCPAINTPAINAPAINPAINWPAINPAINYPAINPAINLPAINPAINNPAINPAINPAINOPAINYPAINAPAINMPAINEPAINPAINWPAINPAINGPAINPAINNPAINOPAINPAINPAINLPAINPAINOPAINPAINOPAINPAINPAINTPAINPAINPAINDPAINPAINEPAINPAINPAINPAINIPAINPAINPAINPAINRPAINPAINUPAINPAINBPAINPAINPAINNPAINPAINEPAINPAINEPAINPAINBPAINPAINPAINPAINEPAINVPAINPAINPAINAPAINPAINHPAINPAINUPAINPAINOPAINPAINYPAINPAINTPAINPAINUPAINBPAINPAINPAINLPAINPAINOPAINPAINPAINPAINRPAINPAINTPAINPAINPAINNPAINPAINOPAINPAINPAINCPAINPAINPAINNPAINPAINIPAINPAINPAINEPAINPAINRPAINAPAINUPAINPAINOPAINYPAINPAINKPAINPAINNPAINPAINPAINIPAINPAINHPAINPAINTPAINPAINPAINYPAINPAINPAINAPAINPAINMPAINPAINUPAINPAINOPAINPAINYPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN_ **

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

_WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_C_

_CHA_

_PLEASE_

_OH PLEASE_

_SHADOW OF MYSELF_

_I CAN’T SPEAK YOUR NAME_

_WHY CAN’T I SPEAK YOUR NAME_

_WHOSE VOICE IS SO LOUD I CANNOT TASTE_

_YOUR NAME ON MY TONGUE, SOOTHING AND DARK AS SOIL_

_WHOSE FINGERS DIG DEEP INSIDE MY SOUL_

_CARVING OUT THE LAST PIECES OF_

_WHERE YOU AND I EXIST AS_

_ONE PERFECT WHOLE_

_ONE BODY_

_ONESELF_

_ONE_

_I_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, dearest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I cannot fight them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They are also you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I can bind them for now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is time to come **Home**.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Come home to me, my loves.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wait!

 

_Wait_!

 

No, what about

 

What about

 

Please, oh, God, don’t leave him!

 

Don’t leave him!

 

NO!

 

_NO, NOT YET_!

 

NO, PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO GIVE HIM

 

A WAY BACK!

 

HE CAN’T FEEL YOU!

 

HE CAN’T FIND HIS WAY BACK WITHOUT YOU!

 

Oh, God, oh, God, please

 

Please, you can’t!

 

I’m so sorry

 

But you have to

 

I can’t lose you

 

Not now.

 

Take it, quickly!

 

_Quickly_!

 

**_Quickly_ ** **!**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_COME HOME_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You woke with a shattering gasp, body shuddering and shaking with unknowable terror. You gulped down air, swallowing it mindlessly as your head spun and crashed. There were living shadows everywhere, long writhing fingers reaching out for you, reaching through bright doorways ripped in space. You could see through the rips, now, to the place you had gone, the place patched over your mind, over your thoughts. You saw it and yet you could not comprehend, even as your mind expanded, flooded with information.

The blinding shadows reached.

You screamed, curling away from the touch of the burning void, your eyes rolling wildly to find any escape. Everywhere you looked there was more rips, more madness, more terror creeping into your mind looking for a space to fill. There was blood—blood on the bed, blood on your legs, blood on your stomach, the walls, the bed. Blood of the birth, the birth! Foul rotten blood of a dead birth! The blood lined the rips, fed into the doorways, fed the nightmares.

And then the shrieking void was crushed, collapsed under the weight of a new god, thick and comforting and soft as it flurried through the room. The doorways consumed themselves, squealing with furious frustration before leaving existence with a _crash_ that echoed in your mind and made you sob with confusion.

But the comforting shadow stayed, draping itself around your shoulders and soaking into your mind, where its nimble fingers took the information screaming through your pounding skull and sorted it carefully.

**_There,_** it whispered within you, its voice familiar and yet…

**_That is much better, yes_ ** **?**

You slumped over yourself, hands trembling with shock and adrenaline as you rode out the pain in your head, mouth slack and dribbling the blood of the dead earth. You did not know how long you sat there, but with each moment the pain lessened and you became more of yourself. Your memories unfolded from where they had been pushed aside by the unknowable that was now locked away behind doors you did not know if you had the key to. You did not know if you wanted the key to them. You could feel them throbbing, pushing, wanting to be opened, wanting to be seen, wanting to exist in this reality. But you looked away with a shudder and turned to the memories you could comprehend.

There was you—your whole self, carefully preserved despite the hunger of the alien knowledge. You could see the lumps and cracks and anger in your soul, and you thought you might cry for it. They were all there. Every human mark given to you, good or bad--all there. You cradled it close and wept, the tears mingling with the blood soaked into the sheets below.

And then, memories.

Your entire life passing by in an instant, slowing as it approached your present. The moon, the mountain, the brothers, the bond…

You could still feel the ghost of the pain that had torn you apart. The hand that had sectioned away a piece of you to mix with the brothers. Your skin felt dirty—touched by foul disease fingers all over as it sized you up for use. What would need to be changed? What could stay? What was acceptable?

Then the memory of...

The hand on your stomach.

Your swelling stomach.

Your mind breaking away—splitting apart from your body—as if your soul were severing and floating away. The denial, the deep clamp as the god burst forth from its prison, bellowing with unfathomable rage. The flesh crawling from between your legs, dropping to the stone dead and drooping. The rotten blood… the putrid pollution leaking from your lips!

And then the

The other

The other!

**_Shh, shh, love. Don’t try to think about it._ **

So you didn’t.

You startled when the memory of the voice came to the forefront of your mind. Oh. _Oh_.

You knew them.

You knew that voice!

Oh, but it was so long ago—or was it just now?

But you knew that voice.

It was the voice of a friend—a lover—a mother—a father—a child.

They were _family_.

But how?

How were they family?

The family you remembered had been a part of you—an integral thread that sewed your soul to your body. Who was this shadow that wove and wefted through reality, leaving only a piece of itself to face you? Separate and stranger.

**_I am whatever you need._ **

What you needed. Oh, yes! Yes, yes, you remembered. What you needed!

The memory swam into view before locking into place where it belonged. A girl, scared and lonely and so, _so sad_. Angry at everything, helpless to change anything. The cautious shadow that danced on the wall as the moon passed through the window on another sleepless night. The hand held out, laughter echoing in the thick air. The bond. The bond.

The bond!

_Chara_.

The shadows danced happily along the walls once more, coming to rest just in front of you. There was the suggestion of form, but nothing your mind could place.

**_Yes, love. Though perhaps it is not such a powerful name anymore, it is still who I am._ **

What did they mean? Were they not Chara, then? Were they not your friend? If they were, why did the memory of their voice not match what you heard now?

Who were they?

What were they?

**_Your friend._ **

You heard the unspoken whisper: I am not the same anymore, but I still love you. At my core, I have not forgotten you.

And that was enough for you, for now.

You took another moment to feel nothing but the weight of their presence within you, and without, before filling your lungs with stale air and holding it for a long while. You closed your eyes tight, palms pressed into them to make sunbursts behind your lids. You watched them writhe, your lungs crying for breath.

And then you let your breath go, dropping your hands to your thighs as the press of the new memories overwhelmed you.

You had to look.

You didn’t want to.

But you had to.

They were so important.

You turned to them and they snatched you up, sinking you into them impatiently. There was only darkness to be seen, but you knew what kind it was, and so you weren’t scared. It was the darkness of pre-life, of unending limbo between death and life. Held in the grasp of Mother, cradled in her Home, curled close against the other half. The pain of attempted life. The pain of living briefly. The pain of separation.

And then...stasis.

Never living.

Never dying.

Only…

Protecting?

Preventing?

Stopping?

...Saving.

Keeping the other half still.

Crippling the sun.

Binding the shadow.

Guiding the vessel.

The halves worked together, but separately.

One calling for its mother.

Other crying for rest.

Both halves of a key to the beginning of the end of the world.

Bring them together and…

_Oh_.

You snapped back from the memory that wasn’t yours, but connected to you by the piece of soul you’d sacrificed unwillingly. You were suddenly aware of so much, as though a window had opened in the cell of your mind. The bodies of the brothers lay where they had fallen in the office, their magic weak but growing stronger. They would wake soon, and remember nothing more than a faint thumbprint of the Otherworld.

Those memories were yours to bear alone.

You could feel the thread of shadow and love that bound the three of you. The sleeping forms of everyone in the Home—was it really so late?—and those who could not sleep, pacing back and forth. Undyne and Alphys and—was that Mettaton and the twins? When had they arrived? You had been cloistered in your own mind for so long that you hadn’t even noticed.

The human souls wandering the Home, restless and frustrated.

The hybrid soul beneath.

The blood in the vial.

The eclipse, stretching across the whole world, wriggling into human minds and shifting memories around as it liked.

The beast below.

And the one behind it…

The shadow’s sun.

You jerked, shaking your head furiously. You couldn’t, wouldn’t think of that. Not now. Not now. Not now—!

The shadow softly smothered the thoughts, the memories, the knowledge once more, until you were just that—you.

And that was all you needed.

You knew what had to be done.

Looking up into the shadows at the wall, you smiled, and saw it reflected back to you. You stood on shaking legs and held out your hand.

They took it.

Together, you walked to where the vial of blood lay discarded on the floor, thrown aside by your unbidden passion. You took it gently, thinking of the woman it had given life to. You uncorked it, staring inside for a brief moment before throwing your head back and draining the contents in one gulp.

You swallowed thickly as the power gripped you almost immediately, your shoulders going tight with it. Your friend laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Far below you, under timeless soil, the Matron’s heart still beat.

She was alive, and Chara now held a direct thread to her soul.

And where one thread connected, others wove around it.

One to her.

One to her bondmates.

And to the bondmates’ bonds.

You smiled.

“Hannah,” you whispered into the laughing dark, “Come Home.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: an advantage.
> 
> -yawns- Thanks for stopping by, you guys. Thanks for breaking my tumblr lamp.
> 
>  
> 
> [tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+)](http://tellcosy.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Right, there are quite a few notes needed for this chapter so let's get started!
> 
> **General Content Warnings:** talk of death, dead bodies, blood, swearing, dissociation, vague description of forced pregnancy and miscarriage, and explicit sexual content ALSO in the middle there is a giant wall of text that might hurt some people's eyes
> 
> **Content Warning for Sexual Content:** choking, biting, mild blood, rough play, definitely not going by safe sane and consensual because no one talks about limits even though it veers into kink, **(SPOILER)** the forced pregnancy is not by the brothers **(END SPOILER)**
> 
> Explicit content starts with the sentence, minus the quotes: "You immediately set to proving that you wouldn’t." and ends with the sentence minus the quotes: "After a few moments of complete stillness between the four of you where you took your time dragging the breath back into your lungs, you opened your eyes to a beautiful, terrifying sight."
> 
>  
> 
> **For those of you not wanting to read the chapter for any reason, summary is:**
> 
>  
> 
> Frisk, mourning the deaths caused by the attack and unsure of how to move on, takes over the leadership duties of the Home while dissociating. While performing one of these duties, Sans and Papyrus confront her about her avoidance of the truth--that the matron is likely dead, as well as the other missing people (including William, Iris, the constable, Zachary, and Lilli). Frisk gets angry, but realises that Sans is right and that she needs to move on somehow, but she doesn't know how. She admits that she is lost and feels like she is a curse to everyone she loves and is comforted by the brothers. 
> 
> The four of them fall prey to influence and desire and have sex that ends in soul-bonding. The soul-bonding goes wrong, giving the Master a bridge to Frisk and Chara's soul. Chaos follows, during which Frisk and the brothers have a terrifying out-of-body experience in an unknowable space or time. Frisk calls out to Chara, who rescues them, though it forces Sans to take their mark. Frisk wakes up to shadows trying to escape through rips in reality only for them to be smothered by Chara, who is no longer the same god. Frisk's mind is overwhelmed with the alien knowledge until Chara locks it away. 
> 
> Frisk can then understand what happened--while the souls did bond, there was pieces taken by the Master to impregnate Frisk, which was aborted by Chara before his plans could come to fruition. The piece of soul taken from Frisk and Chara belonged to an unknown entity that resides below. While remembering, Frisk realises what she must do, and drinks the Matron's blood. It ends on Frisk revealing the Matron's name, Hannah, as she calls her Home.


	43. The Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find the keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the bottom, below the ~*~

 

 

Sans and Papyrus had been alive for a long, long time.

So long that Sans knew they really ought to be dead.

He didn’t used to feel it—that undeath, that artificial prolonging of the monsters’ lives. It was just another part of living in the horror of the Underground. They drank the manna, they learned to live in the dark, they lost themselves to the hive, memories washed away and muddled. It was just the way of life, such as it was.

But in all those years of horror—in all the killing, all the reaping of flesh he’d performed for his master—he’d never seen anything that shook him as much as the soul cage sitting behind the cellar wall did.

Sans woke up confused, aching, and strangely hollow. His mind was fuzzy. Thick. It took effort to remember where he was and what had happened. Why he and Papyrus were on the floor, groggy and unsure. Why they were both partly unclothed.

But oh, when he did remember…

“Papyrus,” Sans choked out, reaching for his brother desperately, instinctively. “Papyrus!”

“I’m right here!” Papyrus said, crawling over to him quickly and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Sans couldn’t stop his bones from quaking, his whole body on fire with the shame of what he had done. What he had caused. He could feel the hole in his soul like a phantom limb, even though it had been patched over with shadow magic. He could feel the weak, incomplete threads of the two new bonds drifting from his soul to theirs. It made him sick; off balance. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Bonds weren’t meant to make you sick. They were meant to make you happy. So happy that you felt full of life and power and joy and you were impossible to be around because you spilled magic everywhere, causing playful chaos until the bond settled.

Not this.

Not this.

“I’m so sorry,” Sans managed to gasp out through the tightness in his soul. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, Sans, shhhh,” Papyrus said in a quiet murmur, love trickling through the new bond and the old. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is!” he said while shaking his head, beyond angry with himself. “I’m the one who the Master—who—”

“It’s not your fault,” Papyrus repeated more insistently, leaning back enough to look Sans in the eye. Sans was uncomfortable with such direct inspection—he felt dirty and used. Traitorous. But he held his brother’s gaze nonetheless. “You said it yourself—the Master would have found a way, no matter if he had us to go through or not.”

“But Frisk—Frisk had to—”

There his memory failed him. He knew that something awful had happened to Frisk. Something terrible and corrupt.

But he couldn’t remember.

All he knew was his guilt and sadness and terror and regret.

He couldn’t imagine how she must feel. 

How she would hate him now.

He knew she was nearby--he could feel her through the bond. But he couldn’t bring himself to look up and see her standing far away from them, her eyes haunted and lips twisted with disgust.

He collapsed into himself, covering his face with his hands.

“Papyrus, I can’t—” he whispered, mind full of chaos. He saw flashes of Frisk as she’d been just before, utterly devastating as she’d accepted them eagerly. Begged them to sweep away the pain in her heart. The need in her calling out to him, shouting over every hesitation he’d had. “I can’t…” The sounds she had made—the looks—the adoration in her eyes…

_ Oh, God _ , what had he done?

What had he ruined?

How could he live, knowing that he had forced a bond on her? On both of them?

How could he…

“Sans,” Papyrus said gently, his voice calm, but his words firm and direct. When Sans said nothing but was still unable to bring himself to look away, Papyrus gave him a little shake. “Sans! Stop!”

Sans took in a quick, stuttering breath.

“What?”

“I said  _ stop _ ,” Papyrus repeated, his eyes intense and serious. Some part of Sans woke up and he looked at his brother then— _ really  _ looked. Papyrus’s eye lights were soft, but the insides were sharp—he was scared. No—concerned. He was scared  _ for _ Sans. But—why?

“’Pyrus…?”

“Don’t do this to yourself again, please. I— _ we _ —can’t manage this alone. Please don’t disappear again.”

“What?” Sans asked, his hands trembling weakly on his brother’s back.

“You’ve only just come out of yourself again. I don’t want to watch my brother disappear back into the hole he was in for so long,” Papyrus said, his voice thin and shaking. Sans stared at him in shock. “ _ Please _ .”

“I—but—but if it wasn’t for what I did—”

The bond connecting him to the shadow twitched; sprung to life. He flinched, but held his courage. There would be no use in cowering every time Chara spoke to him now. He couldn’t remember why he had accepted the bond, or what had happened to prompt it—the memories were behind a fog so thick that he had no hope of recollecting them any time soon. He only knew that something horrible had happened—that he and Papyrus and Frisk had survived something unknowable. So while he hadn’t wanted the mark or the bond with Chara, he had it now, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

So he might as well get used to it.

**_Good evening, sunshine. I see you’re busy hating yourself again for things you had no control over._ **

There was a whisper of annoyance from both sides of the bond, though he didn’t need it to see Papyrus’s flicker of anger at the god’s flippancy. When he looked up unthinkingly to see Frisk’s reaction, he realised that she wasn’t actually in the room with them. That was a strange relief. He’d had himself convinced that she was right there in the room with them, watching him with revulsion as he broke down. It was good to know that she likely hadn’t even been aware of more than a vague feeling of distress through the bond.

What was even stranger, though, was the realisation that even though Chara had addressed only him, all of them could hear it.

That was…more than eerie, to him. The Master had never included anyone else when speaking to Sans.

**_As you said—better get used to it. We don’t have time to be wallowing just yet. We need you two to come find us._ **

Ahhh, and that certainly helped alleviate some of the tension in Sans’s soul. Though Chara’s voice was so similar to the Master’s, there was a looseness—a humor—about them that had never existed in the Master. Sans would not make the mistake of thinking they were any more human than his previous master, but it did ease some of the strain of painful memories.

He didn’t bother responding to their jab about his emotional state. He could feel the intention behind it—they were trying to get him to react in anger, to snap back to them that he  _ wasn’t _ wallowing. Because if he got angry, then he wouldn’t fall back into the sinkhole of regret and hate in his mind. He would have to rise against it. He would have to face what had happened and live.

He would have to keep fighting.

They  _ needed _ him to keep fighting.

Sans looked his brother in the eye and saw the desperation deep within. He thought about how Papyrus would also be struggling to not search for the missing memories of what had happened after the Master had torn them all apart to—

To do whatever they had done.

Papyrus would be just as scared as Sans was.

But he was holding himself up by his will alone, because Sans needed him to be strong, just as he had been for Papyrus so many times.

Sans was suddenly struck with the ridiculousness of that.

When had Papyrus become the strong one?

Or was it just a matter of different strengths lending themselves in different times?

Sans hoped that was true.

Because even though he knew he needed his brother to comfort him now, he didn’t think he could bear the thought of becoming a burden. Not to him. Not to Frisk. Not to anyone.

_ Never,  _ whispered through the bond that connected him to Frisk.

And that single intention, though he had to turn away from the bond in fear of what would come later, was enough to bring him to his feet.

“Let’s go,” Papyrus said, his relief palpable in his posture and tone. “They need us.”

Sans nodded, even though the doubt in his soul whispered that he would not survive looking Frisk in the eye.

It took them longer than he’d thought it would to find Frisk, largely because he’d kept getting confused and turned around by the pull of the bond. His nose said this way, his soul another, and then another. Papyrus had been just as confused by the fact that they’d ended up straying to the cellar door of the Home no less than three times, convinced Frisk was waiting for them there. Finally, though, they had caught the echo of humor from outside, and had found her standing outside of the front gates, staring serenely up at the mountain. She had her hands tucked into her trouser pockets, a faint smile pulling at her lips as her head cocked to the side, as if she was listening to someone whisper in her ear.

Sans knew in an instant that she was not the same woman he’d first met.

He was frustrated to find that he couldn’t place what was different, though. There was nothing immediately obvious to see. He wasn’t even sure that it wasn’t simply his own insecurity telling him she’d changed because of what had happened. He studied her as they both approached, but other than the way she held herself—loose, relaxed, and confident even in the face of the eclipse and looming mountain—there wasn’t anything to be found.

He tried to convince himself that everything was fine, but he still couldn’t manage the words that Papyrus spoke eagerly.

Then she turned to them, and Sans finally saw what was different.

It was as if she had donned the shadows that had been consuming her; a cloak of power resting on her shoulders. Her eyes spoke of a well of knowledge that ran deep, deep, deep—too deep to follow her into without drowning. Her face was still, empty, and almost alien in its disconnect, as if she’d left her mind on another world entirely. 

For the first time, Sans truly felt the distance between them stretch out of his reach.

He hated it.

He hated himself for causing it.

But then, with a wide smile that spoke directly to his soul, it was gone. The endless desert had turned out to be only an illusion—the unfathomable stretch of space had become a blanket, her smile folding the two ends to meet.

With only a step of hesitation, he followed Papyrus to meet her, nearly lifting her off her feet in a tight embrace. It was only once his bones brushed against her skin and hair and he could fill his nose with her scent that the doubt fluttered away, crumbled to dust. He could feel the lack of blame from her as she threw her arms around him and Papyrus, her lips pressing kiss after kiss against their skulls.

She didn’t blame him.

_ She didn’t hate him _ .

They didn’t say anything about what had happened. There was no need, just then. Sans knew they would have to talk about it eventually, or risk the memory festering and rotting into something that would separate them. But for now, they simply embraced. He didn’t ask if she could remember, and she didn’t ask him.

But he knew she could.

And he knew that if he wanted to, he could ask Chara to make him remember, too. But he didn’t want to. He turned himself away from that, knowing that what he would see would only hurt. There was no sense in it, when it was so necessary to face ahead and be ready. He would come back to it eventually, though, when he was ready to see.

He put that thought aside when Frisk leaned back and looked between them, her smile turning distant once more as she said, “They’ll be here soon. We should be quick.”

He almost asked who she meant, but before he could, she’d already answered him silently, an image of the mountain flashing across his mind from her side of the bond.

The monsters.

All of them?

“Yes,” she said softly, stepping back from them. Despite that shocking affirmation, though, there was very little concern in her voice.

Sans could already feel the creep of panic once more. They couldn’t fight every monster in the mountain. They couldn’t hold them all back from invading the Home, even if he and Papyrus both had every one of their blasters summoned. He hadn’t even been able to save everyone against the infected humans. How would he manage another battle, especially against those he’d called friends not so long ago? He’d lived with them—laughed with them. They knew what he was capable of, and he them. This would not be a fight against mindless drones. They were thinking, plotting, reacting monsters. There would be no room for surprise. 

“How can we possibly...?” he asked, trailing off with dread licking at the corners of his mind.

“Sans,” Papyrus said, dropping a hand on his shoulder. Sans looked to his brother with wide eyes and a quivering soul. He couldn’t fight another battle like that one. He wasn’t ready. “Look closer.”

Sans’s brows furrowed with confusion before he followed his brother’s gesture, turning back to Frisk. She simply stood and allowed him to look until he finally caught the flicker of movement from over her shoulder. It had come from the ground near her feet.

From her shadow.

With a deep wariness he looked closer, unsure if his eyes tricked him. He was startled enough to choke and stumble away when the shadow stretched and grew suddenly, climbing up Frisk’s body until it held a shape identical to hers, yet without features. It rested its chin on her shoulder, the space where its mouth should be splitting and pulling into a pleased smile.

**_Hallo, Sansy._ **

He stiffened at Chara’s voice somehow coming from the shadow golem embracing Frisk. This close, they weren’t simply echoing in his mind, but all around him as well. It was uncomfortable and somewhat overwhelming for him, but Frisk and Papyrus seemed fine with it. So he—he would manage. 

He would manage.

**_Good. Because we have very little time left._ **

Sans turned reluctantly back to Frisk after tearing his eyes off of the unnerving shadow, brows raised.

“We have some preparation to do.”

“Are you suggesting that there is something we  _ can _ actually do? Because Chara—” he was caught off guard when Frisk didn’t immediately tell him off for using the god’s name, but continued after only a brief pause, “—was around for the last fight, too, and they weren’t very much help at all.”

**_Things have changed._ **

Sans stared down the laughing shadow before glancing over at his brother, who shared the same look of confusion. Were they missing something? He turned inward, hesitant only for a second before barreling ahead, diving into the bond between his soul and Chara. 

“Things?” he’d asked, his voice stilted. “Or you?”

**_Why can’t it be both?_ **

“Fine,” he ceded. “So you’re a new person—god. But that doesn’t mean you have the power to match a mountain full of monsters with another god like you feeding them.”

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation while we prepare,” Frisk said before Chara could respond, reaching up to touch the shadow’s hand briefly.

**_Yes, alright. It would be faster to show him, anyway._ **

“How did you know they were different?” Sans murmured to Papyrus as they trailed after Frisk, who was headed back into the Home.

“I’ve told you time and again that practice makes all the difference, Sans,” Papyrus said, sending a scolding look his way. Sans only shrugged, falling silent as they followed Frisk to the cellar door. Neither of them questioned it beyond sharing a significant look. Was whatever Frisk needed to do down there the reason they’d been lost earlier?

Sans was suddenly uneasy again.

He kept his disquiet to himself as they descended, though he knew they would feel it through the bond. He didn’t think it was unreasonable for him to feel, considering the last time he’d been here, he’d thought he was going to die consumed by the Master and used as a puppet to infect Papyrus again. It had been horrible enough then, but now…

The ancient magic was palpable in the cellar, old and indifferent and utterly overpowering. Sans’s soul fluttered within his chest, quaking in the face of it as they moved to the back of the cellar. Past the rows of bottles and food storage. Past the crates and boxes. Past everything human.

“Here. Behind this wall.”

They stopped at the back wall and Sans thought in that moment that he would end up running away if he didn’t watch himself. He felt the crush of power waiting to be found, like rage contained within a paper jar, like silence in an empty room, the presence filling every space possible until Sans thought he would have to smash through the wall himself just to stop his head pounding. Beside him, Papyrus flinched, turning his face away.

Frisk looked completely nonplussed, and Sans thought that nothing else could alarm him more than that until she stepped up to the wall and brushed her fingertips against it. 

Sans had figured that, with Chara’s full power behind her, Frisk might have produced a weapon made of shadow or void to break through the wall. But the moment she touched the stones they began collapsing in, cannibalising themselves with teeth formed of something that defied sight, defied knowledge; that made him squirm and twitch and hold his head until— 

What? Why were they just standing there instead of going further in? Was Frisk waiting for something or—

**_Oh, dear, it seems I forgot something._ **

Chara’s fingers brushed against Sans’ soul and mind, wiping away the fog of confusion and terror. He could suddenly comprehend the wall that had both existed and not. Both the reality in which it had existed and the one they lived in now, in which there had never been a wall at all. It still scared him, but at the very least, he could understand it.

It was…it was…

“How?” was all he choked out.

Frisk gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ve never done anything like that before,” Payprus whispered. Sans noticed just how still he was, how blown his pupils were. He was just as unnerved as Sans was. “The  _ Master _ never even d-did anything like that.”

“That you remember,” Frisk said meaningfully.

Sans barely held back a flinch at the reminder of the memories hidden away in the fog in his mind. He’d always suspected—known, really—that the Master had been adjusting everyone’s minds. Everyone he knew had had moments where the fog had thinned and they thought they could see a glimpse of another world, another life, before they’d mysteriously lost interest and turned away just long enough to forget again. He’d just never really thought harder about it.

And wasn’t that a wonder.

**_The one you call Master can’t perform anything like this. Now, at least. Not without a true vessel._ **

“Is that why our—w-why our soulsss were—” Papyrus stammered, hands twisting.

**_No._ **

“Okay,” Sans cut in, not comfortable with talk of what had happened. It made his bones itch and his soul ache. “I—I think I’m convinced. I-I don’t know if I’m going to be okay, seeing everyone stop existing, but I—I suppose I will be, won’t I? I will be, because they won’t have ever—”

Papyrus took his hand, gripping it tight.

Frisk glanced at them both with sadness in her eyes, though it was masked by a smile. “Don’t worry, you two. That isn’t the plan. We aren’t here to practice killing monsters.”

“Then…why  _ are _ we here?” Papyrus asked, his voice steady but reedy and thin. He was trying his best to seem strong and capable despite what they had just seen and the power still pulsing from deeper in the cellar. Sans held his hand tighter.

“For one of the keys.”

“Key to what?” Sans asked, knowing he didn’t want the answer.

“A god,” Frisk said, turning to move through the wall-that-wasn’t. She didn’t wait to see if they followed, simply striding to the back of the pitch-dark room and stopping again. Both Sans and Papyrus moved slowly forward, Sans’s bones rattling quietly with the need to run. He squashed it down, telling himself that this was no worse than feeding the beast in the Underground. No worse than the hundreds of horrible things he’d seen the Master do to humans and monsters alike. 

Couldn’t be worse.

Could it?

With dread adding weight to his feet, he finally drew level with Frisk, who stood with her head bent.

It only took him another moment to get the courage to look at what she faced.

_ No _ , no—no, no, no! 

_ No! _

_ NO—  _

No, no, no,  _ no _ —it was  _ wrong, it was all wrong, it shouldn’t exist _ ! It  _ shouldn’t _ —

**_Shh, don’t think about it. Don’t fret. Look, but don’t fear._ **

Sans did just that, once Chara’s fingers ghosted across his eyes. He shuddered at the feeling, but did not protest. Whatever they did, it had to be better than the abhorrence he’d felt at the sight of the bone cage before him. It was formed from small bones—smaller than even a child’s. An infant, then. 

An  _ infant’s  _ bones, in the cellar of the Home.

Formed into a shape that chilled Sans deeply.

Ritual shaped. 

Runed bottom, ribs surrounding, skull on top. And floating in the middle—a human soul, as red as blood.

Old gods shaped.

How had this happened?

Who had done this?

Had... _ anyone _ done this?

Or had they formed themselves, shaped by influence alone?

More than anything... _ why _ ?

Why did this exist?

Before he could begin to think too closely on it again, though, Frisk knelt down and held her palm over the tiny skull, eyes closed. Sans wanted to drag her back from it, keep her away from the horror magic oozing from the relic. But he kept himself in check. Frisk knew more about that magic now than either he or Papyrus could hope to understand.

“ _ Shhh _ ,” Frisk said to no one under her breath, though her eyes were still on the skull. Sans realised she was  _ comforting _ it. Another cold chill ran through him. “Shhh, be still. I’m here now. We’re here now. You will be with him soon. It’s almost over.”

Him?

“Come out, now. I’ll keep you safe.”

With a gentle tug on the rib cage, the soul burst forth, crashing against Frisk’s chest and disappearing there. The only reaction she gave was a quick intake of breath before she relaxed her shoulders again, breathing out slowly through her nose. She did that several times before she finally opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at them. 

“That’s one.”

“How many are there?” Papyrus asked as Frisk quickly took out a cloth and wrapped up a few of the bones, tucking them away again. 

She glanced across at him as she stood and brushed off her knees. “Two. The other is just outside my room. Which is good, because the monsters are moving very quickly now.”

“Shortcuts—they are using shortcuts,” Sans muttered mostly to himself as they ascended once more.

“I don’t doubt it,” Frisk said, her voice much more relaxed despite the fact they’d be facing off against a mountain full of monsters soon. 

“I take it we won’t have time for questions, then,” Sans asked gruffly.

“Well—it depends on the question, I suppose,” Frisk said, throwing him a jolly smile over her shoulder. Sans was taken aback nearly enough to stop him in his tracks.

“How can you do that?” he asked before he’d thought not to.

“Hm?”

“Be—like that, when we’re about to go to war again.”

That just got another confused look from Frisk, and he sighed with frustration.

“I think what Sans is trying to say is,” Papyrus began gently, “You’ve changed quite a lot, very quickly.”

“Haven’t we all?” Frisk said, her voice quiet and wistful even as she bent her head down in her long strides. “And anyway, are you sure it was so quickly after all?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Papyrus said, his tone matching hers.

They stopped at the door to Frisk’s room. She faced away from them, silent for a few moments until she responded, “Neither am I.”

She turned and gave them another smile, and finally let them see what she’d been hiding.

She was just as scared as them.

“It’s just easier to pretend like I am.”

Before either of them could think to respond, Frisk opened the door to her room and stepped inside, ignoring the vines and flowers draped through it. Sans swore loudly and leapt inside, calling up his magic to crush the vines against the walls and ceiling as they reached for her. 

“What are you  _ doing _ ?”

Frisk blinked, clearly perplexed. “Getting the other key.”

“Don’t you know what these things can do to you?” he asked as Papyrus came up beside him, quietly feeding his magic through to Sans as well. His brother didn’t want the vines touching Frisk any more than he did.

Frisk choked with a sudden, almost hysterical laugh before swallowing it down. “I know what they can do, yes,” Frisk said, going over to the window, where several flowers were blooming and turning their horrible eyes to face her. She reached out and stroked a fingertip along the petals of one of the larger ones. “But they won’t hurt me now. They know what we’re here for.”

“Why are they even here in the first place? I thought they’d all been taken care of!” Sans snapped, still scared for her. He’d always hated touching those flowers. They’d caused more than a few of his relapses into heavy manna reliance, simply because he’d accidentally looked too closely into their eyes.

He’d only let Papyrus bring some up when he’d been sure that they were dead.

“We got rid of the surface, yes, but the roots go far below. We’d have to destroy the Home and till and burn the earth underneath before we could ever hope to be fully rid of them. Or, there’s an easier way.” With a significant look sent his way that he wasn’t sure how to interpret, Frisk plunged her arms and head into the vines, her entire torso disappearing through the curtain. Papyrus made a short, alarmed hissing sound before leaping forward and taking Frisk by the waist. He folded himself against her back and disappeared behind the vines as well. He didn’t pull her out, though, and Sans was becoming more agitated by the second.

“Papyrus, what are you doing? Get her out of there!”

“She’s—there’s something happening!” Papyrus called back to him. “Something’s coming up from the ground outside!”

“ _ What _ ?”

**_They will be fine, Sans. Don’t interfere._ **

A lightning bolt of rage hit him at Chara’s words, and he shook his head furiously. He was ready to snap back that Chara would  _ never _ be able to tell him how he should act, but before he could, Frisk let out a triumphant sound and began climbing back into the room fully. Papyrus helped her as the vines began shriveling around them, crumbling to dust and leaving dried blood stains where they’d touched. Sans did not let his magic dissipate until he’d seen every one of the vines dusted around them, falling to the floor dead. Once they had, he turned back to Papyrus and Frisk, who had placed a large flower—head, stem, and roots all—in the same cloth roll as the bones from before. 

“That’s what you came here for? A flower?” Sans asked, incredulous.

“The other key,” Frisk responded, her voice vague and quiet as she rolled the cloth up once more, though much more carefully this time.

Sans thought he heard a child’s cry and subsequent laughter from the roll, and immediately stopped himself from asking any further questions.

Papyrus looked as though he’d like to swallow his words, as well, but he still managed to say, “Those things—the flower and the bones—are they—?” Papyrus’s voice croaked to a stop and all he continued with was a single image: the matron—no, just  _ Hannah _ back then—young and fierce and sweet and very pregnant, golden flower petals falling from her makeshift crown. Sans didn’t know how his brother had managed to catch a glimpse of her at that time, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the implication of that single image, put together with the sight of Frisk tucking the cloth away.

“Yes,” was all she would say to that, no matter how they pressed.

Sans finally fell quiet as they both followed Frisk to the hospital wing, trying to ignore the flutters of dread he felt at her whispered, “Only a few minutes now.” He wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that the ‘keys’ Frisk spoke of were the Matron’s—the children she had had with—

No one had known there were two.

He had no way of knowing if his memories were true or constructed, but  _ no one had known _ . He could remember speaking to the others about the royal prince, soon to be born. No talk of another. He had performed his duties around the king and queen and  _ never once _ . Never once. How could that be? Monsters knew everything about their children, even while unborn. The magic spoke to them.

How could they not know there was another?

But then he saw it again, that soul drifting in its bone cage.

And he could suddenly understand how no one had even suspected.

It had never happened before.

Or…

Had it?

His memories reached out for him through the fog, but they slipped away before he could grasp them, shadowy fingers making him fumble.

**_I wouldn’t look too closely at those, if I were you._ **

...He would look later.

When this was over.

When he was stronger.

Sans hiked his jacket up his shoulders and stuffed his hands into the deep pockets as they pushed through into the hospital, where they were greeted by several sisters. Frisk accepted their clasping hands on hers and smiled at their questions, saying,

“We’re all fine. I’ve found the things I need. They’re coming now. We will save her.”

“But what will we do if it fails? How will we protect the injured? The children?” one of the sisters said, her hands twisting and face crinkled with barely restrained fear. “We have all made our peace, but—”

“I will not fail you again, Sister,” Frisk said, her countenance suddenly serious as death. There was the echo of power in her voice, and Sans saw several more heads turn to watch them from further in the hospital. Undyne and Alphys were already coming over, having stood as soon as they’d arrived. Mettaton and the twins stayed behind, their eyes wary. “I will  _ not _ .”

**_If you are still unsure…_ **

The humans in the room all gave a hard flinch at once, and Sans knew that they could hear Chara, as well. They continued working, but cautiously, clearly ready to be accosted by the voice of a god once more.

Sans couldn’t help but be impressed with their steadiness. 

**_There are always miracles to be done_ ** —

“Yes, do them,  _ please _ ,” the sisters’ said, voices rising into a clamour. 

**_But they require a sacrifice._ **

The clamour died in an instant, the hall going deathly quiet beyond the moans of the infirm. 

Then, “I’ll do it.”

Sans found himself staring wide-eyed at Undyne, who had been the one to speak out. She towered over the humans, imposing with her arms crossed over her chest. Her gills worked hard in her neck—she was still adjusting to her new life without the manna to ease her pain. 

He was going to ask  _ why _ she would have volunteered herself to save some humans, but Frisk’s shadow was stretching again, growing tall enough to look Undyne in the eyes.

**_Hm. There’s determination there, yes, but_ ** —

“But  _ what _ ,” Undyne snarled when Chara did not continue.

**_But I am not a god of monsters._ **

“Are y-you s-sure about that?” Alphys asked with a light laugh. Sans’s gaze snapped to where she stood behind Undyne, a hand on her wife’s arm. What had she meant by that?

Was she suggesting that Chara, not the Master, was meant to be…?

More memories reached for him, old and long-corrupted. He let them sink back into the fog unseen.

**_...I suppose I could try._ **

“No,” said the woman propped up on the nearest bed to them. She threw her legs over the edge. “Don’t try. Just take me and do what you need to do to keep everyone safe.”

The woman’s eyes were on Frisk as she limped over to them, and Frisk turned to face her fully, her eyes flashing with recognition. “Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t,” the woman said gruffly, her northern accent thick.

**_Frisk, dear, there’s no reason to pass on offered sacrifice if we can use both. Waste is a terrible thing._ **

Undyne came to stand beside the human woman who had offered herself, giving her a quick inspection before nodding. “Come on, then, stop wasting time with talk.”

“Right,” Frisk said, stepping up to Undyne. “Let’s start small, hm?”

“You don’t need to do no ritual first?” the woman asked, her brows crinkled as Frisk held her hand out to take Undyne’s. 

Frisk smiled vaguely and shook her head. “No. But I—I’m sorry, but I will need to consume the—the offering.”

**_Hope you aren’t squeamish._ **

“Can’t be worse than what I’ve seen now.”

Frisk didn’t look at the woman again, but her hand stilled mid-air over Undyne’s, her lips going tight at the corners. After only a moment of tense silence, she asked, “What do you offer us?”

“What? I thought you needed a  _ sacrifice _ ,” Undyne asked, baring her razor teeth. “You only need a piece of me? Just take anything you want—”

“Undyne!” Alphys gasped, hands scrabbling at her wife’s shirt. “No!”

Chara’s laughter echoed loudly through the infirmary, and everyone who could clapped their hands over their ears, wincing. The sisters they’d spoken to scattered, backing away as the shadow golem smiled wide and fell back against Frisk, sinking into her with a satisfied sigh.

**_I accept your offer, Undyne. Don’t worry, Alphys, I’ll leave some of her for you._ **

Sans watched in horror as shadow tendrils grew and unfurled from Frisk’s hand, descending upon Undyne in an instant. They wound around and over her whole body, stripping bits of her flesh and carrying her dust back to Frisk, shoving it in her mouth roughly. Frisk coughed and choked as she struggled to keep up, but she still only pulled away once the last tendril had retreated back into her.

Undyne hadn’t let out a single cry, standing tall and firm as she’d been torn apart.

As soon as she let go, Alphys, Papyrus and he sprang forward, catching the two before they could fall. Sans held Frisk fully while Papyrus spread his arms between her and Undyne, whose body was shimmering and shuddering as her magic struggled to reform her skin. Her good eye rolled back into her head and her chest worked in tandem with her gills, frantic and gulping. She still made no sound, other than those soft gasps. Somehow, that was worse than if she’d screamed. 

Sans could only stare helplessly, shaken by the sudden brutality.

“No, let me—let me go,” Frisk gasped, struggling back to her feet even though her nose poured blood like a spigot. She swiped at it with the back of her sleeve, leaving a wide streak of red against white. She shook her head roughly, holding a hand out to Alphys. “Is she okay? Will she be okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t—I tried to stop them, but—”

“She’ll b-be f-fine,” Alphys stammered, her hands crackling with yellow magic as she shared her magic with Undyne. “Don’t—don’t apologise.”

Frisk just nodded after a few moments and turned to the woman, who stared with wide eyes and a tense jaw as Mettaton and the twins helped Alphys take Undyne to her own cot, bending over her and obscuring her from sight. “It’s okay if you don’t want to offer anymore. Undyne...had more power than we thought.”

“No backing out now. If it’s only a piece you need,” the woman said, gesturing to one of her legs, “take it. They were going to have to amputate it eventually anyway.”

“We need your name,” Frisk said, glancing back at Sans with a pleading look. He nodded, understanding what she was asking him. He moved over to the woman, standing behind her even as she gave him a suspicious look over her shoulder. He didn’t bother trying to look reassuring. 

“...Mary.” When Frisk’s expectant look didn’t leave her face, the woman continued, “Marigold.”

**_I accept your offer, Marigold. You may want to bite down on something._ **

Sans already had his arms out and ready by the time the shadows began slicing away at the woman’s leg. He caught her easily as she collapsed back with a muffled howl, her wrist caught between her teeth. One of the nurses sprang into action, rushing over with a leather strap that she swapped the woman’s wrist out for. Sans held her tight enough to break her bones when she shook and failed at trying not to thrash. Frisk leaned over her, taking Sans’s arms to steady herself as she stared in the woman’s streaming eyes. 

“Look in my eyes, Marigold,” Frisk said, her voice hollow and disconnected. “Look only at me.”

The shadow arms moved beneath the woman’s gown, streaks of blood painting the cloth as they went. Instead of moving the flesh to Frisk’s mouth, though, a gaping, chomping, grasping maw appeared at her chest, her soul exposed at the center. Hands and mouths appeared from the void, snatching and ripping at the flesh with teeth and fingers and claws, the blood soaking into Frisk’s soul. 

“Look at me, Marigold!” Frisk commanded when the woman’s eyes rolled in the direction of the void tear. “My eyes, only my eyes!”

Sans desperately wished he could look away from the consumption, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. He watched with his own soul gnawing with hunger echoing through the bond. Everything else fell away until the maw ate away at bone and marrow and then itself, leaving no evidence that it ever existed.

Frisk backed away from him and the woman as the nurse ran forward. The nurse supported the woman back over to the cot where several others rushed to begin working on the stumped leg. Frisk gave her and Undyne quick, distant glances before turning back to him and Papyrus.

“They’re here. Let’s go, quickly.”

Sans’s bones grated against themselves, his magic retracting in preparation for a fight as he and Papyrus followed Frisk out of the infirmary doors. As soon as they’d stepped onto the muddy grass outside, there was a  _ crack _ and muffled screams from behind. His magic itched and crawled, but he did not look back. Whatever Chara was doing, he probably didn’t want to see it happening.

“They only put them in a...different place. They’re safe there, as long as we don’t look,” Frisk said, gaze trained on the forest line where monsters were crawling and flying and running toward them. He forced the desire to look back out of his mind and took a large, cooling breath that circulated around his soul. He was already feeling clammy with dread. 

And then the king and queen emerged, the Matron tucked between them like a favourite ragdoll.

Taller even than Undyne and Papyrus, the king and queen towered over most monsters. Their shaggy, pale grey fur hung ragged over their thick, knobbly joints that seemed to buckle under the weight of their hunched bodies. Asgore’s neck drooped around his giant, vine-covered staff as he hobbled with each step, lumbering like a lame animal. His muzzle jutted out unnaturally, his teeth spreading his lips too taut, yet the softness in his eyes belied his more predatory features. He looked a beast next to his queen, though she shared many of his traits. Toriel had the same teeth pressing out of her mouth, though her lips managed to contain them better than Asgore’s. She had the same razor claws, though hers were sharpened where his were broken and ugly. Both their ebony horns made a jagged arc over their heads, nearly meeting in the middle before coming to harsh points. 

Where they differed most, though, was how they held themselves. Asgore had always walked as if in pain, his back nearly doubled over so that he appeared shorter than Toriel, whose regal posture brought a stiff, statuesque quality to her image. She cut a terrifying figure, and Sans had never been brave enough to consider wronging her.

The Matron showed no indication that she was even aware of the situation, her head lolling on her neck like a corpse walking.

Frisk continued forward the second she spotted the trio, her movement predatory. The shadow golem danced and folded and leapt and squealed with delight as the three of them pushed into the crush of monsters surrounding them. Frisk only had eyes for the royal couple, though, and the determination practically sparking from her eyes had Sans’s magic crackling to life. He could hear the baying of his hounds and the deep, eerie singing of Papyrus’s blasters calling from their home in the void.

They stopped only meters away from the king and queen, Chara draping themself over Frisk’s shoulders while their tendrils stretched further and further out on the ground underfoot. Sans’s magic was coiled like a spring; ready and willing to strike out at any second despite the impossible odds against them. There was a horde of monsters here, all deadly still as they stared Frisk down. There was something odd about the way they looked at her, though Sans couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was almost like they were...awaiting orders.

Like puppets hanging loosely from their strings.

With a frown, Sans looked back to the king and queen as Toriel said in her velvet-soft voice, “Why have you summoned us?”

Sans had forgotten how alluring Toriel’s voice was; how seductive. Every word she spoke made you want to curl up at her feet and never leave. She implanted memories with that voice: of warm summers spent lazing in the sun as she read his favourite book aloud, of sharing deep secrets in the dead of night, whispered laughter overwhelming both of them, of giving him the strength to go on when he felt he had nothing left to give. Her voice said,  _ Come, stay here and let me take care of everything. I know what’s best for you. Just rest. _

“You’re here to make a deal.”

“With you? What could  _ you _ offer the servants of the Great One that we could not simply take?” Asgore laughed, the sound like boulders falling down a mountain, devastating everything in their wake. “Why don’t you come with us, small one, and we will grant you a painless death.” 

Sans had to hold himself back from lashing out, his entire body jangling with the need to fight or escape. He could hear Papyrus’s emotions echoing his own through the bond, despite the fact that Frisk’s remained dead calm. He couldn’t help it. The horde of monsters all staring with dead eyes as Frisk parlayed with the royals was pushing him too far.

**_Trust my little lamb_ ** **.**

Just as Chara whispered to him, Frisk slid out the cloth roll and held it in front of her on a flat palm. “The Matron’s life for theirs.”

The powerful snarl that Toriel let loose was enough to make Sans instinctively throw a wall of bones between Frisk and the royals. Papyrus leapt in front of Frisk, shaking hand ready to throw an attack if they burst through. But they never did, and when Frisk sent soothing whispers down the bond, he let the wall drop bone by bone. On the other side, Asgore had a hand on Toriel’s shoulder, his calm face masking the sorrow and rage in his eyes. Toriel was composed once more, though her teeth were still bared in a grimace.

“You are either very brave or very stupid to flaunt such tragedy,” Asgore rumbled, his words like a thunderclap.

Frisk’s face darkened. “Is that a no?”

“Hannah’s soul has been claimed by the Master.”

Frisk was deadly silent for a long few moments, the shadow tendrils spiking and snapping at the monsters as it grew further and further out. It was nearly beyond the circle of the horde already.

“What have you done?”

Asgore looked away, his bestial face twisted with pain at the accusation in Frisk’s voice. “Our duty.”

“ _ What have you done _ .”

Even Toriel’s face fell, though she tried to cover it up with a deeper grimace. “Hannah was fulfilling her duty to the Master when you called her back. That is why she appears thus. Her soul remains...below.”

Frisk’s only reaction was to slowly clench her fist around the roll of cloth, her arm dropping to her side once more.

**_Then…perhaps our revised offer will be of interest to you._ **

After only a second for Chara’s laughing words to take root in his mind, there was an explosion of activity. All at once the monsters attempted to leap to Frisk, and all at once they were pulled to the ground, swallowed by shadows. All around, he could see monsters being taken by Chara, and felt the distant connection form between him, Chara, and everyone else. It was like a web of shadows, with Chara happily scuttling between everyone, building more strands to hold more souls. In the chaos that ensued from everyone’s souls entangling together, Sans nearly lost sight of the royal couple and the matron. 

Mind reeling with the cries of a thousand monsters, Sans’s eyes lit on Asgore and Toriel once more. They were resisting Chara’s shadows, though they were nearly drowning in them, the tendrils coiled tight around them up to their chins. Both of them were burning with fire magic as they fought Chara off, the matron’s body between them left to sway dangerously close to the fires. Frisk was moving toward them with purpose, ignoring everything around her.

Before Sans could get himself oriented enough to go after her, she’d bent and taken the matron by the waist, hoisting her up and across her shoulders. She met him and Papyrus halfway, stepping over monsters as she went, and said,

“If you have anything that could knock them out, now would be good.”

Sans and Papyrus exchanged a glance before nodding and moving in front of Frisk, who continued back to where the infirmary was now shimmering back into existence. Sans let his magic spring down from his soul, flooding his body as he stopped just in front of Asgore and Toriel. Papyrus was already humming with his own magic beside him, a large bone cage forming around the couple’s feet. Sans waited until it had fully enclosed them before turning to the queen, locking into her glaring, fiery eyes.

In that gaze, he saw the Master staring out at him.

He smiled and crushed them both against the back of the cage until the king stopped thrashing and roaring and the queen’s eyes fell shut. The instant they’d given in to the pressure, Chara’s tendrils leapt inside them, stabbing straight through his magic to their souls. Sans let go as he felt a rush of power, hot and overly close, move through his entire body and settle on Frisk’s side of the bond. He watched as Papyrus’s bones sank back into the earth, taking enormous gulps of air to cool his overheated body.

He was fine.

It was over for now.

He was…

He realised Papyrus was looking over at him, and met his brother’s gaze. A single image flashed across his mind, almost too quick to understand.

Almost.

The sight of the king and queen, crushed under the weight of his magic, their bodies twisting and breaking until they were nothing but dust. Sans standing over them, his eyes merciless and cold.

He understood.

But he was fine.

It was over.

He hadn’t done it.

**_Come, we need to move quickly now._ **

Sans turned to see Frisk headed back their way, already relieved of the matron’s body. He was shocked; he hadn’t thought it had been long enough. But there she was, trotting back with a queasy look. His soul clenched with dread. Had she seen the image Papyrus had shown, too?

**_No, dear. Your bloodthirsty little secret is safe._ **

Sans worked hard to ignore Chara’s attempt to rile him, focusing entirely on Frisk. She came to a stop in front of them, bending over herself and taking large, gulping breaths as she braced her hands against her knees. Papyrus took her shoulder in concern, asking,

“Frisk, are y-you—?”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted, looking up at both of them with a crooked smile. “I just...have a lot less time than I thought.”

**_Frisk thought it was a good idea to consume the keys now, instead of when we were safely inside the mountain._ **

“W-What?”

“ _ What _ ?”

Frisk sighed and stood straight again, though she winced. “I wasn’t thinking beyond keeping them and the matron safe. Now if you’re done chastising me, I’d like to get up the mountain as soon as possible.”

“Frisk, why did you c-consume the keys?” Papyrus asked, his voice tight with barely contained anxiety. “What’s going to happen once we get inside the mountain?”

Frisk’s smile drained away, until there was nothing but the distance that Sans had seen earlier.

He was suddenly scared of hearing the answer.

“Better if we just go,” was all she said, though, and held her hands out to them. He took it instinctively, though he only wanted to demand that they stay in the Home, where he might keep her safe from what was to come. They could remove the keys, somehow. They could stop her from…

**_Trust in her, Sans._ **

How could he, when he could feel the guilt coursing through her?

When he knew what those keys were for?

When he knew what happened to humans who fought the Master, vessel or not?

**_She needs you to believe in her._ **

He did.

God help him, he believed in her.

No matter what was to come.

No matter what waited for them in that mountain.

He would be with her until the…

Until the end.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: descent and...
> 
> Ahh! What a fine day for tumblrin'! Ope! Death approaches! Better skedaddle!
> 
> [ tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+) ](http://tellcosy.tumblr.com)
> 
> ~*~
> 
> **CW AND SUMMARY**
> 
> **General Content Warnings:** Blood, Amputation, Body Horror, Mutilation, Asphyxiation
> 
> **Type of Horror:** Gore
> 
> **Content Warning for Sexual Content:** No Sexual Content 
> 
> **For those of you not wanting to read the chapter for any reason, summary is:**
> 
> Waking up without memory of what happened after the bond, Sans feels extreme guilt for what he feels is a forced bond. Him and Papyrus go find Frisk waiting for them outside, and Sans feels there is something inherently different about her, though he isn't sure what. They reunite with no blame placed on any of them for what happened, other than the Master, and go in search of what Frisk had had a vision of: the keys to create a god. They go into the cellar and find a ritual bone cage housing another red soul. Frisk demonstrates Chara's new abilities by making the cellar wall no longer exist. They go to Frisk's old room to find that it has been overrun by vines, and Frisk removes the other key: a golden flower.
> 
> Before heading outside to meet the rapidly approaching monster horde, the three go to the infirmary to discuss what is going to happen with the sisters. The sisters beg Chara to do anything they can to protect everyone in the Home, and Chara demands a sacrifice for this to happen. Both Undyne and the woman who had fought with Frisk in the battle offer themselves. Chara tries to deny Undyne, saying they aren't a god of monsters, but takes both offerings in the end. With the power from the sacrifices, Chara shifts reality so that the Home doesn't exist to anyone from the outside. The monsters arrive and the three go to meet them.
> 
> Leading the monsters are Asgore and Toriel and the Matron, who looks wrong. Frisk attempts to bargain for the matron's life by offering the keys, which are the royal couple's children's corrupted forms. They refuse despite their desire to be reunited with their children, because the matron's soul has already been claimed by the Master, and the body was all that was able to be called by Chara. Upon that revelation, Chara claims the souls of all the monsters present. Asgore and Toriel resist, leading Sans and Papyrus to subdue them, which startles Sans into realising he's not fully free of the Master's influence. Frisk returns from saving the matron's body and reveals she has consumed the keys, but refuses to say what this will accomplish. Sans has a sudden realisation of the likely outcome of this plan, and despite his misgivings, swears to himself to stay by her side until the end.


	44. Apotheosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Save or Reset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the bottom, below the ~*~

The Master knew you were coming, of that much you were certain.

Where the hole had stood, wide and endless into that breathing dark, was a staircase made of vines and golden flowers. It twisted down, down, down into the pit below, beckoning you like a host into their home. Your body wanted to hesitate, to give yourself a chance to turn around and leave, but you didn’t allow it. 

The keys didn’t allow it. 

Your soul was changing, your body filling with the joy of the two halves joining together once more.

It didn’t feel like joy to you.

It felt like utter devastation.

It felt like dying again and again, brought back into another life, another body each time. They were remaking you with each step down, each stumble and near-fall. It wouldn’t be long until you weren’t you any longer.

It was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

You’d been assured that Chara would sever the bond between you and the brothers if things went differently than planned. You hoped it didn’t. You hoped that you would somehow be able to make it out alive on the other side of this. 

But you were working with ifs and maybes, and those weren’t enough for you to chance that the brothers might also die because of the bond.

There were no absolutes in the world of the Old Ones.

You might not be harmed whatsoever, or healed of every hurt you’d acquired in the process, with no lasting damage.

You might be worse than dead, thrown to the far reaches of space and time where you would rot for aeons, unallowed to live or die.

But you had to hope.

And you had to try.

Because the only way to bind an Old God…

**_At least if that happens, Sans and Papyrus won’t even remember that they’ve lost you._ **

Oh, yes. That  _ was _ a comfort.

**_Better than pining away to dust._ **

...yes, that much was true.

You supposed it didn’t matter either way, anymore. You’d already consumed the keys. No matter if you wanted to chance another way, no matter if there  _ was _ another way, this was the way now.

You were better off making your peace than fighting against the end.

**_I promise I will do what I can to save you, should the need arise._ **

Yes, you should hope so!

You nearly broke out in laughter at the thought of Chara (for even though that was not their true name, and never had been anything more than the name of the child used to bind them, you still found it difficult to think of them as anything else) choosing not to do everything in their power to save their vessel.You thought you’d done a good job of hiding it, but still Papyrus caught your eye, his brows raised.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, giving him an apologetic smile as you clung to his offered arm to steady yourself. “Something Chara said.”

Sans grumbled from behind you, “Is it really the time for jokes?”

You shrugged and fell silent again. You weren’t sure what to say to either of them to give them comfort, so you simply didn’t try. You felt that Sans was ready to explode given any chance, and Papyrus was becoming quietly despondent despite his brave face. You suddenly wished you could have given them a better life, filled with happiness and laughter and joy.

Instead, you were pitching forward down the last few steps, having lost your sight and sense of balance as the keys restructured a part of your mind. The brothers caught you, but neither asked if you were okay.

You supposed they already knew the answer.

You held onto them tightly until your sight returned, fuzzy and weak at first, but then growing to be much, much more than before. You could see through the darkness to your surroundings, and you suddenly wished they hadn’t bothered.

As you continued through the fields of swaying, living flowers whose heads turned lazily to watch you pass, everywhere you looked was the architecture of the Old Ones. Spires tall enough to disappear into the distant ceiling, winding buildings with too many edges and corners to make sense in human’s eye, viscous walls with curving pipes like arteries pulsing with rushing liquid barely visible beneath their mottled surfaces. And there, after a long walk through the r otting homes of the outcasts, the looming castle, carved from a material unknown on Earth. From far away, it looked like rough wood, stacked together strangely, but you knew better.

All around you, bone and blood feeding the beast.

The power of the earth. 

Was it any wonder the moon bled as this abomination fed on her children? 

The turbine engine thrumming that pressed into you grew louder with each step. The heart of the mountain whirled and chugged below, and the three of you continued spiralling downwards, passing beyond the river lands into a place of boiling, angry heat. You pressed on, only reaching out to give pause once you'd come to a crooked laboratory hidden between massive spires.

“There's something I need to do here.”

The brothers, at your request, waited for you outside the laboratory. You had to reassure them that you would be safe alone despite the destruction of your body. You held back from asking them why they thought it mattered anymore. 

It took no longer than a few moments to find what you were looking for despite the state of the lab. Even if you hadn’t seen its existence in Alphys’s memories, it would have been impossible for you to ignore it. It had hummed and vibrated and sung to you the moment you'd entered the mountain, even through the noise of the blood machine churning away endlessly, no monsters left for it to feed.

The tome waited for you in expectation. 

Smooth leather, dyed dark by blood. 

Cream vellum, cut uneven. 

Burned into the cover, impressed by nothing more than purpose, was the name.

You traced it with a finger, ignoring the way it shimmered and battered against your mind, shifting endlessly into its many forms.

So. This world’s name for them was not so different from before, after all.

**_I think you’ll find the most effective prisons are the ones custom-built for its prisoner._ **

You smiled faintly, tucking the book away. It screamed at you to read its contents, but you needed to press on. There was so little time left.

The brothers did not ask you what you had procured in the lab, and for that you were grateful. You did not want to expose them to that burden of knowledge. Sans did, however, insist on taking you through one of the veils--his “shortcuts”--after seeing the state you were in. You agreed after a few moments of deliberation. True, it was not a pleasant experience for a human, travelling through the tears in reality that connected separate spaces, and you weren’t sure how the keys would react to it. But it was efficient, and you couldn’t perform anything like that. Chara could only return you to a different place if you had physically been there before. So you agreed, holding on to the brothers as they guided you through one of the veils.

You came out of the other side just outside the throne room.

You took a deep, levelling breath through your nose, your eyes closed. The keys were shifting bones around, now. Hips, knees, feet. You didn’t know if you could walk through the pain. You didn’t know if you could walk  _ at all _ . You must have shown your hesitation, as Papyrus wasted no time scooping you up and carrying you down the stairwell to the side of the throne room door. You clung to him until the keys had finished with their adjustments, and then a little longer.

You slipped down to the floor just after the three of you moved into the next room beyond the empty stairwell. You drew up in confusion as soon as you stood on your own two feet, though. You were...taller.  _ Much _ taller. You barely had to look up to meet Papyrus’s eyes anymore. You could only stare in shock, somehow more shaken by this than the idea that they had tampered with your brain. You turned away, shoulders bent and head bowed. They were changing everything about you. They were killing you. You’d known what would happen, you’d  _ known _ , but seeing the physical effects brought it into stark reality. What were you now? Were you human? Were you a monster? They were shifting every molecule in your body, taking up every available space and forming it to fit their needs.

Were you...even you?

You glanced up at the soft touch of shadowy hands on your chin. Chara stood before you, their form like a dark mirror of yours. You could see more details in them now than ever before. They had your eyes, your hair, your shape. They had your smile--your old smile, the one you’d had when everyone and everything was worth saving.

**_Always._ **

You stared deep into the dark pits of their eyes, feeling the unfathomable age of them. It was like looking into the stars and seeing your insignificance. You could find solace in that. You could lose yourself in them and become a part of something greater.

What did it matter if your body was yours anymore?

Had it ever been?

Was it the flesh that had built a home for them, or your soul?

**_You know the answer to that._ **

You took a deep breath, and nodded, continuing on with your hands tucked firmly into the brothers’. They clung to you now as tightly as you had clung to Chara. It was easy to doubt, in the dark cluster of rooms you entered. The heart of the mountain chugged rapidly below your feet, thudding against your soles. Your own heart shifted its rhythm, called to order by the power of the one below. The stones became flesh, became engorged with thick, sweet blood. There were holes carved into the walls, some going nowhere, some with greasy darkness suggesting an exit into places unwelcome to mortals, and some were windows into the atrocities of the Master.

Your eyes caught on one of these, the human in you grasping with greedy fingers at the sight of such horrible violence. It reminded you of the shrieking desperation of those in the city, with humans tearing into each other in a frenzy of destruction. Only the intent here was less to kill and hurt and more to--to--

“It’s the Breeding Room,” Sans said under his breath, his shame and disgust clear in his tone. When your eyes flicked over to him, you saw that he wasn’t even looking. Both his and Papyrus’s eyes were turned to the ceiling, their faces twisted in distress. You turned back to the window, watching as the humans bred, acting little more than animals in their ferocity. There was no tenderness here. No humanity. You watched the violence with a detached eye, as though separated from mating animals in a zoo.

You wanted to be sick.

“What do you breed them for?” you asked, knowing the answer.

“Flesh. Blood. Souls. The Master needs them for the times between the Cycles.”

You nodded, disgust making your gorge rise. You had hunted for years, starving yourself so that you could live with your decisions. You had consumed human blood, but only those who had already met a nasty fate, or had pushed you too far. You had shaken with revulsion every time, until the time that you hadn’t. To think of the effort you’d gone to...for nothing. For every person you’d spared, ten more were writhing together in that room, lost to the Master’s influence.

“Is this where...where Lilli…” You stopped, unable to finish the question.

“I don’t know,” Sans said, still keeping his distance.

“The Master has never done this before that we can remember,” Papyrus explained, his eyes shifting down to yours. “We don’t know what might have been done with those taken who were close to you, but it seems...unlikely.”

You nodded again, deep in consideration for what should be done about these humans. Should you put them out of their misery? Some of them were little more than broken shells, staring dully out of twisted bodies as they were violated. Some of them were malformed now, their skin fused to the person they mated with. You thought perhaps it would be a kindness to relieve them of this hell.

**_Once we have taken care of the Master, they will be free anyway._ **

Free to live with the nightmares.

You weren't sure how much of a life that really was.

But you continued on nevertheless.

Continued past the squealing and the scrabbling, past the thumping and the wailing.

Past the screams of what the brothers called the Birthing Room.

You couldn’t make yourself look inside that room.

Further, further.

Ever deeper.

You could feel the pressure of the earth around you, this far down.

It felt like a giant swallowing you whole.

The brothers held tight to your hands.

And you went deeper.

Down…

Down!

_ Down _ !

The depths and horrors you descended to were enough to drive a human mad, enough to send them howling for the surface. 

You went deeper.

Until…

“This is the mouth of the Master’s chambers.”

You barely heard Sans over the heartbeat pounding into your skull, splitting your mind from itself, flaying your consciousness with each gurgling thump. It was coming from the mouth of a hole in the floor that descended into deep darkness, deeper even than what you’d journeyed through. It shifted and undulated, seeming to reach out for you with desperate necessity. You tore your gaze away from the maddening grasp to survey the immediate surroundings for any way to descend safely.

There seemed to have been a sort of well-like pulley system with a rune-etched platform, but it was bent and discarded off to the side. There was no way for you to repair it. Beyond that, there was very little else actually around the hole.

It seemed you would have to jump.

You turned back to the hole, eyeing it warily before turning to the brothers.

“Only follow me if I don’t return.”

You didn’t wait to hear their arguments before turning and stepping off into the living darkness. You were only falling for a few moments this time, though, before your feet crashed to the floor. Your legs erupted with splintering pain as your ankles twisted underneath you, but it was forgotten in the wake of the crushing heat that threatened to suffocate you. The air felt thick enough to swim through, sticky and foul. As the keys re-socketed your bones and continued restructuring others, you stood without the aid of sight. 

All around you, the darkness pressed.

You could not see.

You could barely breathe.

It was so hot.

And yet unfathomably cold.

Your skin prickled and sweat, the last vestiges of its humanity.

The heartbeat pounded.

Your own responded.

You took a step to realise that you’d landed in some kind of liquid.

It only took one breath to recognise it as blood.

Blood and…

Something else.

Something sweet and powerful that tasted of life itself.

**_Manna_ ** .

So this was what the brothers had fought against.

You could see why it had gotten its hooks in them.

Even with one touch to the tongue, you could feel its power coursing through you, adding to the web of monsters’ magic sleeping above.

You wiped the rest on your ruined shirt, careful to resist its call.

You didn’t have much time left.

Before you could take more than a few steps further into the unknown, though, there came two sounds at once: a crashing thump from behind and an eerie slithering from all around.

You swung around, hands thrown wide for a sense of your position in space as more blood swelled and sloshed around your ankles.

Was it…

Getting higher?

“Frisk!” came the sound of the brothers crying for you, their voices weak and muffled in the boiling air.

They had followed you.

You tried to call out to them, tried to tell them to go back, to run before anything could happen to them. But your throat was sticky with gluey air and the hands of the keys working, working. They called your name again, but the sound was smothered by the drifting dark and the breath of abominations cooing with delight.

 

**_Bone_ **

**_Bone_ **

**_Bone of my bone_ **

**_Body of my body_ **

**_Brothers_ **

**_Family_ **

**_Yes yes_ **

**_This will do_ **

**_This will do_ **

 

_ Something was touching you _ !

Brushing against your back, fingers tickling the pinched skin.

No matter how you twisted to escape, they followed.

They were everywhere!

You could not escape.

But they did not try to capture you.

They only brushed past, sending bolts of unfathomable horror through you. Every touch called out to the death of the universe, of the deep places between places. Infinite and unknown — _ impossible to know _ !

You faintly heard the brothers calling to you, but you could not pinpoint their words. Your entire focus drifted away from them—from everything real. Your vision swam no matter where you looked. Light sparked like stars winking into existence before bursting into ultimate death, pulling together until nothing remained but crushing depth. All around you, the sparks revealed that which should not be seen. Should not be understood. Shifting reality, bottled universes uncorking and spilling through to where you stood, helpless against the wave of possibilities.

**_Frisk, don’t look at it! Don’t look at it!_ **

You tried oh  _ God _ you  _ tried _ !

But there was human left in you and that was enough to grasp.

To manipulate.

To slither into your brain and wriggle into keyholes, jangling and pressing and clicking and pressing and  _ pressing  _ and  _ pressing— _

_ Fris _ **_k it’s th_ ** _ e Master! It’ _ **_s the Master! Don’t let_ ** _ it look at you!  _ **_Don’t l_ ** _ ook in its eyes! _

You knew! You knew! You wanted to look away from the shifting, pulsing, sickening entity unfurling itself endlessly, swallowing its own body in an ouroboros of existence, its thousands of limbs and headless, skeletal bodies writhing into the walls of the womb even as it devoured and created infinity.

And at the heart of it, solid through shape after shape after shape winding around it, hung your destination: a sphere of flesh, red and pulpy and beating with the pulse of the earth.

The ovum for the birth of a god.

The keys pulled you forward, desperate to be born, but you could not comply.

Your body was frozen—terrified to comprehend its own space, its own place in the universe, when impossibility and possibility collided in one chamber. The heat of life and cold of death kept you still.

Useless.

You had only one thought left.

You had only one reason.

You were not you anymore, but instead a fuel ready to ignite.

Ready to propel the keys to birth.

But you were frozen and useless, soaked to immobile death by the foul waters of tainted life sloshing around your thighs and the fingers spinning your eyes to meet their new Master.

 

**_Look at me._ **

 

**_Don’t look at it!_ **

 

You clawed for any purchase of your soothing god, but the connection was fading

You were being smothered from the inside out

The doors were opening and out poured all the knowledge you were never meant to know

But still you fought

Still you fought to look away from it all and preserve that incorruptible piece of you necessary for new birth

 

**_Why are you resisting_ **

**_There is no need to_ **

**_To resist indicates a will to live_ **

**_What will do you have_ **

**_You who allows yourself to be devoured_ **

 

**_Frisssssk_ ** **—**

 

The connection tensed

You could barely hold yourself against the barrage of images and sounds and smells and places and feelings and it was all too much

Too much

Too much!

The static overload of information battering at your brain was overwriting everything you knew, everything about you

Everything that made up who you were

It sought out the connection and flooded it

Until —

 

**_LOOK AT ME_ **

 

You looked.

You  _ looked _ !

You couldn’t stop and

YOU STARED INTO DEATH’S FACE

AND

DEATH STARED BACK

THE DEATH FACE IN YOUR EYES

IN YOUR MIND

SHAPED LIKE THEM

HOLLOW EYES HOLLOW MOUTH

FACE WATCHING

HOLLOW AND GLOWING WITH UNHALLOWED KNOWLEDGE

FOLLOWING YOU

YOU TRY TO LOOK AWAY

BUT IT FOLLOWS

IT FOLLOWS!

EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK THERE IT IS

IN YOUR GAZE IT WATCHES

EMPTY EYES

GAPING MOUTH

IT IS EVERYWHERE

EVEN INSIDE

YOUR EYELIDS

IT IS THERE

 

**_You cannot escape me_ **

**_You never had any power_ **

**_To disobey_ **

**_To escape_ **

**_To choose a path other than that which I have given you_ **

**_I am the Master of this reality_ **

**_And neither god nor beast will take my throne_ **

 

you are choking on it

on the INFINITE

you cannot find your way free of this

It exists and does not exist and the impossibility of its possibility is too much

Too beyond

Comprehension

You can see the unending lines of you breaking off

Treading different paths

Living other lives

Earths and Dead Earths colliding over the coil of humanity, the bloody moons yanking pieces of worlds together to create your own abomination, spilling the seed of chaos across every every every every every

EVERY

Your human mind smashes against the block, crushed to the wall with the unknowable

How CAN

But it DOES

And DOESN’T

NoNO

NOOOOOOOO

_ NOOOOOOOO _

_ THAT ISN’T POSSIBLE                                         _

_ THAT ISN’T POSSIBLE _

_ THAT ISN’T POSSIBLE _

_ THAT ISN’T POSSIBLE _

_ THAT ISN’T POSSIBLE _

Eyes opened inside the hollow mask of death with each impossibility

Thousands 

Millions

The eyes of gods staring into you

From within the hollow skull tattooed inside you

And you were afraid

 

**_Humans are so fragile in the end_ **

**_Despite their potential_ **

**_They are caged in flesh and bone_ **

**_And when faced with the possibility of this potential_ **

**_Simply cease to function_ **

**_Pulled apart by their own electric meat_ **

**_It’s beautiful in a way_ **

**_A beautiful knowledge that only I could have fathomed_ **

  
  


The knowledge crawled through your mind

Gods born with finite potential

All at birth

While humans

But mites beneath them

Whose souls carry far beyond death the information

Of the universe

And grow

Until they have born

The most possible of possibilities

Creation of life where devourers have devoured

And only bow to their twins

of light and hope

Their clasped hands bringing the infinite to true existence

Not these gods

Not these abominations

Only the twin of endless potential

Made of unearth

Celestiality

  
  


**_Do you see now why you will never win_ **

**_Do you see the pointlessness of rebellion_ **

**_Against the manipulator of all things_ **

**_I am your reaction_ **

**_You move_ **

**_And I will follow_ **

**_You were never intended for more than this moment_ **

**_Gods have no bearing upon my realm_ **

**_When I am in control of every possibility_ **

**_Every step you take_ **

**_I will follow_ **

**_Swallowing your fate_ **

**_You will never reach birth_ **

**_And your potential_ **

**_Stagnates_ **

**_Until I mould you into a new tool_ **

**_To be used as I see fit_ **

**_For only my purposes_ **

**_Never for the god of earth residing within you_ **

**_Nor for the gods beyond the stars_ **

**_Only mine._ **

**_Or none at all._ **

  
  


You saw your future stretching further ahead

Endless

Grey

Dead

Unmotion

World brought to death by inaction

You stared into the hollow eyes of death and wept.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Frisk!”

  
  
  


**_What?_ **

**_What is this?_ **

  
  


“Go!”

  
  
  


**_What are you doing?_ **

**_What could you possibly do?_ **

**_What do you hope to achieve with your paltry knowledge?_ **

  
  
  


“Go now!”

  
  


**_You are nothing more than the sum of my failures_ **

**_A mockery of our potential_ **

**_What are you_ **

**_What is_ **

  
  
  


**_No!_ **

  
  
  


**_NO!_ **

  
  
  


Your world snapped back into stark reality and you gasped with the pressure of it

Light had filled the chamber, ugly and raw and full of disgusting knowledge meant only to destroy

The blood of manna had climbed to above your chin and lapped at your lip as you struggled to kick further afloat

Your head swam with the hollow realisation of your own uselessness when you saw the brothers standing atop the long, horrendous, many-limbed endlessly shape-shifting beast that had confined you, their hands thrown wide and entire bodies glowing with the fires of tainted magic as they open veil after veil to the Other until they were colliding

Eating through the walls to each other

Pulling in

The screaming of worlds collapsing into infinite space

Compressing the chamber

Beyond reality

The brothers’ mouths hung open as they screamed at you to go, go, go, go, go, but you heard nothing

You couldn’t understand beyond the knowledge the beast had implanted in you

But you watched

Still trying to survive beyond the next moment

Instinct and the keys dragging you forward

The tips of your feet pressing into fleshy walls

The ovum filling your sight

As everything pulled closer and closer

Crushing

The weight of endless space

Too heavy for itself

You took only one last look at the brothers before everything imploded

You scraped and clawed at the wall of flesh crushing you, pushing through it with hands and feet and teeth and nails and  _ oh god _ oh  _ GOD _ you were sliding through the skin tight enough like unbirth like returning to the soft home inside mother finally finally you were inside you were here swimming in the inside the fluid drowning in it 

And you were not alone.

The soul magic sparking across your eyes building building building fell onto the bodies around you, the bodies stacked together like meat hanging from a butcher’s ceiling their faces caught in that last moment that devastation of life and  _ god _ they were they were

All around you!

Your entire life of loves caught around you in a loop of horror of loss of terror striking deep within the soul all at once and you were choking now, the blood of the ovum too thick too sweet too dangerous and it was clambering down your throat, charging past your teeth and lips and lips and gums and walls and down  _ gnnnck _ down  _ aaagh  _ DOWN

Your body spasmed, loosing its own blood to meet with its twin

The souls sparked to life.

The radio static met with the pulsing of life all around you

The souls quivered in their cages

The keys surged forward

And you gave in.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between one blink and death, you were in another place.

You let your hands drop away from your throat, no longer choking on that blood of life. No longer sticky with the sweat of fear. No longer...anything.

You took one look at the grey world around you, the stars brighter in the sky than you’d ever seen before, and you knew.

You were no longer dying.

Because you had died.

The memories already seemed so far away now.

Sands tumbling through fingertips.

You could not hold them.

You tried harder than you’d ever tried.

You lost everything and then you lost more, until everything you became grey.

Your soul was empty.

You breathed.

Though there was no air.

Just instinct.

Thoughts came and went.

Flew away like startled birds.

You let them go, watching dully.

You made no move.

You stood and watched.

There were so many stars.

You fell into them.

Drowned in them.

Lost.

Lost.

You were

Lost.

You clutched your soul and watched.

You were lost.

You felt the rumbling of the dead earth beneath you.

The thrumming.

The call.

You stood lost in the vibrations against you, opening the pores and bleeding the red.

You heard whispers.

Whispers.

Of alive.

Base interest curiosity

Hunger

Pain

Connection

You heard whispers of humans

You watched the stars.

The stars spun and throbbed and the dead earth thrummed.

The whispers came.

You...felt something.

You felt...curiosity.

You turned your face to the whispers.

The stars winked out, one by one.

You did not turn to ignite them, and they fell away.

What was that sound?

Was it speaking to you?

Who was it?

Did you even know who  _ you _ were?

You didn’t belong there.

It was so…

Everything was so...

You fell away again.

No stars this time.

Only deep grey.

Nothing, nothing, nothing

It was better than something.

Better than the something that hurt.

You could barely remember pain.

It was a ghost on your skin, in your head, your stomach.

Whisked away before solid memory trickled down.

Enough to make you shy away from thought.

And just sink…

Down…

Further…

And further…

Until you were hollow enough to crack open

And heavy enough to do it yourself

Why were you bothering to stay here?

What did it matter?

Your existence.

What did it matter.

Why should you stay.

Why should you stay.

Why should you stay.

There was no going back

No going back to a better time, a better place where you didn’t know

Didn’t know how far everything could fall

How far you could fall

And still keep falling

What did it matter.

Why should you stay.

You were already gone.

There was only the suggestion of you left

It would be so

_ Easy _

The whispers came

Whispers and laughter of those who weren’t

You didn’t look

You didn’t belong there

If you belonged there, they would…

You didn’t belong there.

You fell further

Laughter like the spikes driven into the earth and collapsing the futile face of it

What did it matter.

You were lost.

If you ever had a place…

You didn’t remember it.

You couldn’t see past the grey death descending on you, heavy on your limbs and heart and eyes until you were falling again, falling further and further beyond the limits of your descent

You weren’t moving.

But you fell.

You were lost.

Everything was too…

You felt something?

It welled up within you, weak at first then gaining strength as it climbed up your throat

What was it?

It had been so long…

What was this feeling?

Was it curiosity again?

No, you had no use for that.

You already knew everything you needed.

Was it…

What was this feeling?

You tried to remember them.

The parts that made you you.

The humanity.

But they were so far away.

You had fallen so far from them.

The skies were grey and same.

You couldn’t move.

Your limbs were so heavy.

Why would you move them?

What did it matter?

What was there to provoke this from you?

Was it the laughter?

The sound of life and human wafting from places unknown?

Well...no.

What was it?

Why would you try to keep moving when everything was so.

Why would you try to keep moving?

Why would you try?

Why…

You breathed.

Oh, breath.

You...were breathing.

You were remembering the breath of life.

Why were you doing this?

What was the point when you were so lost?

You were lost

You had lost

You weren’t strong enough and 

You lost

You were lost

You…

_ They _

Were

Lost

There was a feeling within you.

It pushed against your teeth, bubbling and hot.

You wanted to swallow it down.

It was not easy.

It  _ was not easy _ .

You didn’t want to know it because it was not…

You opened your mouth and out poured the breath burning deep within you, fiery with purpose driven by nothing more than taking that next step

Curiosity as a driving force

You were shaking

Shaking with life

Why?

Why were you feeling?

You didn’t want to feel this

You couldn’t bring this to yourself deep in that hole and scoop you from the dark

You wouldn’t be able to leave it behind

And it was too heavy to keep moving with it

Why did you have to feel this?

You had turned away from it

From everything

Just so you could keep existing

Despite the emptiness in that

How could you continue when you were burning up

With nothing to fuel that fire

You needed to burn

But there was nothing left of you

To give

  
  
  
  
  
  


But still…

  
  
  
  
  


You moved.

The fire ate at you from within, pushing your eyes forward until you could move that single step

And another

And then another

Until you could do nothing else but keep moving

Your momentum was the only thing left

But even that built a fire in its friction

The defiance of movement

Of looking ahead

Not knowing

But willing to move toward it

Through nothing other than clockwork instinct

The fuel will come

The fuel will come

The fuel will come

The fuel will come

The fuel will come

The fuel will come

The fuel will come

Keep moving forward

Striking flint motion always forward

Burn bright enough and

The fuel will come

The grey world sparking beneath your feet ever forward

Colour sparking

Colour drifting

Glimpses of interest

Fleeting notions

But ever forward

Cut off the pieces that are too heavy to carry

Cut off the past to move toward a future

No matter how grey

Your fuel will burn it bright

Your defiance will splash hot and blinding in the face of the grey dark

The life of burden

The burden of life

You are strong enough to hold it

And burn bright enough to set it ablaze

The burden will become

Spoiled fuel

It will catch fire and set your strides longer

Faster

You will run now

You are running now

Running to that distant horizon with your feet striking the dead stone and imbuing it with life

With purpose

You have so far to go

You can’t see the end

But you are running

And you are burning with the fires of life

You will set the world on fire

Until they are running, too

Every dead flat grey soul catching a tiny spark of you

And starting with a movement of eyes

A reshifting of vision

They will move

They will feel the echo of your spark reminding them

Of what it feels like

To be free

To be a part of something

To be loved

To be useful

To be magnificent

To be holy

To be moving

To be  _ alive _

This is it

This is your fire

This is your place

This is where you belong

You may have lost

You may have given in

But that is not who you are

You are not a Lost Soul

What defines you is the movement after loss

After death

It is something only you can do

Something only you can provide

And you will

Because this is not the end!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**This**

**is**

**only**

**the**

**beginning** !

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ Hello, Fleur. _

  
  


_ My darling. _

  
  


_ You’ve come so far. _

  
  


...Mother?

  
  


Mother, is that you?

  
  


_ Yes, dear. _

  
  


Does that mean  _ this _ is…?

  
  


_ Heaven? Hell? No, dear. _

  
  


Then what is this place?

  
  


_ It is a dead place. A place for lost souls touched by the Other. Created for the Ciphers. _

  
  


Vessels.

  
  


_ Yes, dear. _

  
  


Oh,  _ Mother _ . Mother, how could you be so at peace if you are a lost soul?

  
  


_ I am not truly lost. Only a piece of me has stayed behind. _

  
  


But why? Why? How can I save you? You don’t deserve this place.

  
  


_ I am not the one who needs saving, my darling. _

  
  


I —

  
  


But you deserve rest.

  
  


You didn’t ask for any of this.

  
  


I did.

  
  


I did this to myself, Mother. I did it knowing what would happen.

  
  


_ Did you truly? _

  
  


_ Did you ask to lose yourself to this place of Chaos? _

  
  


_ Did you relinquish every piece of yourself? _

  
  


_ Were you an empty vessel? _

  
  


...no, Mother.

  
  


_ I know what you have desired, my child. I have been with you. _

  
  


_ Every one of us has been with you. _

  
  


_ We have tried to touch your soul _ — _ to impart the wisdom of our memories. _

  
  


_ But it was too far to reach. _

  
  


_ The language spoken here is insurmountable for human souls. _

  
  


_ We are truly sorry for the pain we’ve caused you. _

  
  


Mother, no—

  
  


_ Hush, my child. Now is not the time to argue. _

  
  


_ You have bought yourself a little time with your determination. _

  
  


_ I am so proud of you. _

  
  


_ You have overcome what those before you could not. _

  
  


_ We are all so proud. _

  
  


_ But now you must continue. _

  
  


_ You must continue beyond the reach of our wisdom. _

  
  


_ You are treading new ground, my child. _

  
  


_ You must continue! _

  
  


_ Find them! _

  
  


_ Save them! _

  
  


_ Save yourself. _

  
  


Mother, wait! Who are they? How can I find them?

  
  


_ There are many here. You will know them by their souls. _

  
  


Mother, please! Please don’t leave me again!

  
  


_ My child, I will never leave you. _

  
  


_ I will always walk beside you. _

  
  


_ But only you can save yourself. _

  
  


_ I love you, my petit fleur. _

  
  


_ I will always love you. _

  
  


_ Even in the harshest of deserts, in the blackest of night, you will never be alone. _

  
  


_ Thousands of souls walk beside you, their voices rising to meet yours. _

  
  


_ You are not alone. _

  
  


Mother,  _ please _ !

  
  


 

 

 

 

...Mother?

  
  


 

 

 

 

I...I can barely find my own way.

  
  


How will I find them?

  
  


How?

  
  


I only know how to keep moving.

  
  


How will I save another?

  
  


I will keep moving.

  
  


If it is the only thing I know how to do.

  
  


I will keep moving.

  
  


I am not alone.

  
  


This place is empty.

  
  


But I am not alone.

  
  


I can keep moving.

  
  


I can find those who are lost.

  
  


And I can teach them how to keep moving.

  
  


Until we have found our way.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is that?

  
  


That light, just beyond these grey walls.

  
  


Around the corner.

  
  


Up the path.

  
  


The light seems weaker, now, though it is right ahead.

  
  


Soft. Sad. Unsure.

  
  


...hello?

  
  


Who is—

  
  


I know you.

  
  


_ Do you know me? Do you know me? _

  
  


Yes, I—I think I do.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are…

  
  


A new friend. Kind, sweet, and brave.

  
  


_ That can’t be me. I’m unremarkable. No one ever thinks of me. I’m nothing. _

  
  


No, no! That isn’t who you are. 

  
  


It true that I may not have known you for very long.

  
  


But I saved you because I care!

  
  


_ Shouldn’t have wasted the effort. _

  
  


It wasn’t wasted.

  
  


I care about you, Iris!

  
  


I remember you!

  
  


_ That’s...right! You helped me when no one else did! _

  
  


_ Frisk, thank you! _

  
  


_ I believe in you! _

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you! You are—

  
  


_ An ugly past. A dark spot on a bright future. Dragging you down. _

  
  


No! That’s not true!

  
  


You were a beautiful dream that I clung to in my darkest hour.

  
  


My rock in the raging ocean.

  
  


_ You would rather I disappear. I am holding you back. _

  
  


Never! Never! My past no longer defines my future!

  
  


I have brought you out of that dark place and into my present because I love you.

  
  


I love you, Lillian!

  
  


_ Frisk...I... _

  
  


_ I love you too! _

  
  


_ You can do it, Frisk! _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I am not alone.

  
  


We all share doubts.

  
  


We are all afraid.

  
  


Of being forgotten.

  
  


Of being despised.

  
  


I am not alone!

  
  


With help, I can do anything!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s this?

  
  


Another light?

  
  


Different.

  
  


Angry.

  
  


Restless.

  
  


Hating others.

  
  


Hating itself.

  
  


I can see...

  
  


_ You don’t know me. You don’t know me. _

  
  


But I do.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know that you…

  
  


Hate what you have done. Regret the past. Hide your secrets well.

  
  


_ I have to keep lying to everyone. They can’t know who I am. _

  
  


It’s okay.

  
  


I understand.

  
  


_ None of them can know what I’ve done. What I’ve felt. _

  
  


I do. And I know you have to move on.

  
  


You have to learn how to take off that mask. How to be vulnerable.

  
  


_ But...how can I? I have always been this way. _

  
  


We will take care of you, William.

  
  


Just as you have taken care of us.

  
  


_ Frisk...thank you for reminding me that it’s okay to be weak sometimes. _

  
  


_ You’ve always been the strongest person I know! _

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you.

  
  


_ Don’t look at me. _

  
  


I will always see you.

  
  


We are connected irrevocably.

  
  


You are pathetic. 

  
  


_ I don’t want your pity. I hate everything about you.  _

  
  


I don’t pity you.

  
  


Everything you are is what you've chosen to be. 

  
  


But I...don’t hate you.

  
  


We are two sides of the same coin.

  
  


Your blood courses through my veins.

  
  


And I know that all you are...

  
  


Is afraid.

  
  


_ I am so afraid of being alone. How can I make them stay?  _

  
  


You can't. 

  
  


Everyone chooses their own path. All we can do is learn how to accept it. 

  
  


_ I am so afraid of myself.  _

  
  


I know, Zachary.

  
  


_ Frisk. I'm so sorry for what I've done.  _

  
  


I forgive you.

  
  


_ …you always were…so soft-hearted…  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I am not alone. 

  
  


Everyone wears masks.

  
  


Everyone has that secret inside that tears them to pieces.

  
  


Everyone struggles with that dark side of themself.

  
  


I am...not alone.

  
  


We are all fighting endless battles.

  
  


I will put my back to theirs and keep fighting.

  
  


We will survive.

  
  


Together.

  
  


_Together, we_ _can do anything_!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Keep moving, keep moving

  
  


Colour splashing

  
  


Fire burning

  
  


World awakening

  
  


Another, another!

  
  


This one is shifting

  
  


Bold

  
  


It can only be —

  
  


_ Who am I? Who am I? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ Who am I if I have failed everyone? _

  
  


A just defender. A good man. A better father.

  
  


_ I have lost my way. I have lost everything to my cruelty. _

  
  


Not everything.

  
  


You will never lose me.

  
  


_ I have pushed everyone away. _

  
  


_ I don’t know how to bridge that gap.  _

  
  


One brick at a time, Constable...Anthony.

  
  


And soon you will find that they have met you in the middle with bricks of their own.

  
  


_ Oh, Frisk, my dear girl.  _

  
  


_ Thank you for reminding me that it’s never too late to begin again. _

  
  


_ He never deserved you. _

  
  


_ Now go! Only you can make this right! _

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...hello again.

  
  


_ Who am I if everything I was has crumbled to pieces?  _

  
  


Protector. Leader. Guide. 

  
  


Matron.

  
  


_ I have failed everyone.  _

  
  


_ I have let you die. _

  
  


I gave my life willingly.

  
  


Every one of us would have died a hundred times if it meant another could be saved.

  
  


_ I swore to protect everyone. I swore to keep them all safe from harm. _

  
  


_ I have failed. I cannot be that person. I have failed. _

  
  


You are the one who told me that a mistake is simply a bump in the road to success.

  
  


It’s true that you have spent your life protecting us.

  
  


But the girl you spoke of held so much more within her.

  
  


Love, adventure, loyalty.

  
  


Don’t you think she would accept our sacrifice?

  
  


Don’t you think she would understand that she is more than her failures?

  
  


_ Frisk…? _

  
  


Oh, Hannah.

  
  


I told you I would save you, didn’t I?

  
  


_ That you did, my child. _

  
  


_ I never doubted you for a moment. _

  
  


_ Thank you for bringing me back to myself. _

  
  


_ Now it is time for you to finish this! Go, go! _

  
  


_ Save everyone! _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I am  **not alone.**

  
  


We have all made mistakes.

  
  


We have all lost our way.

  
  


But I will keep moving forward until the way reveals itself!

  
  


We can survive.

  
  


We can repair what has been broken.

  
  


We can rebuild what has been lost.

  
  


We can live!

  
  


**We are not alone!**

  
  


**And we will not give in!**

  
  
  
  


Colour bursting

  
  


Bodies clenching

  
  


Souls full

  
  


Eyes wide

  
  


Mouths open

  
  


Screaming

  
  


Screaming

  
  


**Screaming**

  
  


**_Screaming_ **

  
  


**SCREAMING**

  
  


**_SCREAMING_ **

  
  


**_ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE_ **

  
  


**_WE ARE ALIVE!_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Frisk._ **

**_Oh, Frisk._ **

**_You did it, my sweetheart._ **

**_My love._ **

**_You did it._ **

**_Open your eyes._ **

**_Open your eyes, Frisk._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

You open your eyes.

There is an ocean of stars above you.

Beneath you.

Around you.

An endless expanse of bright light.

Of swirling colour.

Of crashing, collapsing, feuding, mingling  _ beautiful colour _ .

Your world is no longer empty.

No longer grey.

Your breath catches.

And you’re holding back tears of joy, of devastation, of awe.

There is life here.

You are not alone.

There is life all around you.

Without thought, without consideration

You are crying.

You are laughing.

You are holding yourself close as tears stream down your face and you gasp for breath, your laughter echoing through every particle of yourself

You cannot stop and it is so beautiful

You are alive

You are alive

You are awake and

You are alive.

**_Frisk, my love._ **

You look to the voice.

There is nothing more than darkness.

The deep dark between blinding light.

But you know who it is.

You whisper their name.

**_It is not over yet, Frisk._ **

Your eyes are drawn to the abomination behind you.

There, in the breathing sky —

Two worlds.

Each reaching for the other between endless space.

Connected by the birthing moon.

Monstrosities unfit for this soil humanity to perceive screaming through time and space to seed into earthly souls, drawn from that dead place you had escaped.

Lives claimed.

Reborn.

The light of forbidden knowledge pouring from the mountain, blinding all those who look upon it, setting the fires of destruction.

The ovum beneath writhing.

Ready.

And laughing as they climbed from the veil torn into the eclipsed moon, the jealous trickster god of blinding knowledge.

The shadow’s sun.

The world was ending.

**_You must choose._ **

Choose?

**_There are always possibilities._ **

**_Different paths to take._ **

**_Places to return to._ **

**_Given the power._ **

**_Given the opportunity._ **

**_Now is that time._ **

**_We can change this._ **

**_We can take what my twin and their failed vessel have created and use it._ **

**_To go back._ **

**_Or to repair and continue._ **

**_Neither is guaranteed to succeed or to fail._ **

Then how would you know which to choose?

**_You must look inside yourself._ **

**_If we RESET them, there is a chance it will all happen the same._ **

**_But if we SAVE them, everyone must live with what has happened._ **

You think of the brothers.

Were they dead?

If you could perceive their existence, did that mean they weren’t beyond saving?

And if you wanted to save them, was your only option returning?

Or was there another way?

**_They are in a place of potential._ **

**_Where you go, they will follow._ **

Did that mean the Master would also escape?

**_Only the brothers have a bridge to cross._ **

**_I have taken all else from my twin’s failed vessel._ **

**_Whatever you choose, the bridge will be built._ **

**_The rest will be up to them._ **

You consider everything.

**_Which is the path you can live with?_ **

You watch the world of humans fighting for its life.

You think of everyone you love.

You think of their sacrifices.

You think of those lost souls still trapped in the Dead City, wandering endlessly through that grey trap.

You couldn’t save everyone before you died.

You couldn’t save everyone after.

But maybe…

You look to the darkness, decided.

**_Give them a name, Frisk, and they will be bound._ **

You watch the god birth from the ovum with a smile, their magnificence swallowing the earth around it as you speak the name.

Sun, Shadow, and the Earth binding them:

  
  


**_RA_ ** **_•_ ** **_KA_ ** **_•_ ** **_EL_ **

  
  


It was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks! The end, minus a bonus epilogue that will be coming soon. I've marked the story as complete, though, as this is technically the end!
> 
> I'll leave the blubbering and specific thanks for the epilogue, but I just want all of you to know how incredibly grateful I am. To each and every one of you who have read to this point--thank you. _Thank you._ This story took many twists and turns from its original intention and there were times I wasn't sure if I would ever manage to finish it but here we are.
> 
> It wouldn't have been possible without you. So thank you again.
> 
> Catch you in the epilogue!
> 
> [ tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+) ](http://tellcosy.tumblr.com)  
> ~*~  
>  **CW AND SUMMARY**
> 
> **General Content Warnings:** Nyctophobia/fear of the dark, body horror, gore, dissociation, emotional manipulation, loss of physical control, death, drowning, blood, sexual themes, pregnancy themes, sexual allusion, depression, suicidal thoughts 
> 
> **Type of Horror:** Surreal, Dread, Gore
> 
> **Content Warning for Sexual Content:** Allusion to sex
> 
> **For those of you not wanting to read the chapter for any reason, summary is at:**
> 
> [MtaF Chapter Page on My Tumblr ](https://tellcosy.tumblr.com/moths#chapter_44)


	45. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the bottom, under the ~*~

[TRANSCRIPT OF FIRST CONTACT INTERVIEW, PART ONE]

[NOVEMBER 18, 19XX; MOUNT EBOTT]

 

ANDREWS: Mount Ebott. To the layman, a pleasant and unassuming landmark that barely casts a shadow upon its valley. But in the years following the War, rumours of its significance have spread far and wide. When our team of reporters first began investigating this mysterious location, we believed we were merely being led on a goose chase. When asked, the locals had a variety of responses. Some believed strongly in the legends. Some told us there was nought to be found. Yet others even warned us away from the place, saying that those who wandered too close never returned.

 

ANDREWS: So we dug further, intrigued by this strange behaviour. We continued through doubts and troubles until —mere days ago—our persistence paid off in a most unusual way. One morning, as we huddled in our tents away from the drizzling rain, we heard a shout. Upon investigation, we saw that one of ours had found a hole— only small enough to fit a thin man’s arm through it—where there had been none before. To the naked eye, it was impossible to see what might lie inside, and a stone dropped into it gave no indication of its depth. But with an ear pressed to the earth, one could hear the faintest whispers from beneath.

 

ANDREWS: With this breakthrough, our interests were renewed, and we sought out the proper equipment to further probe into this enigma. Using the latest in magnetophone technology, we were flabbergasted to not only capture sounds of activity, but intelligent speech. We couldn’t quite believe our ears: we had been given the impossible to find and prove its existence, and here was what seemed to be the first evidence of subterranean life.

 

ANDREWS: Or, as they call themselves...monsters. We are live at Mount Ebott, where we hope to share this first encounter with these monsters. A small group has agreed to interview, so join me now as we extend our official and most cordial greetings to our newfound neighbours.

 

[Shuffling sounds, and a brief hiss of static overwhelms the feed]

 

ANDREWS: Hello? Hello down there, can you hear us?

 

[Frantic whispers, unintelligible, a throat is cleared]

 

FRISK: Yes, hello. We can hear you just fine.

 

ANDREWS: A warm welcome from the BBC and all of us on the surface! May I ask you to introduce yourself to our listeners?

 

FRISK: I’m Frisk. With me is Papyrus—

 

PAPYRUS: H-HELLO!

 

FRISK: —and Sans.

 

SANS: Hey.

 

ANDREWS: What delightful names! Pardon me for saying, but your voices don’t sound particularly monstrous.

 

FRISK: Well, I suppose for myself it would be because I’m a human—

 

ANDREWS: Really?!

 

FRISK: —and Papyrus and Sans have always sounded quite amiable, really, for skeleton monsters. But yes, I am a human. Or…well, yes, anyway. There are a few of us down here, actually.

 

ANDREWS: And you’re there by choice, I presume.

 

FRISK: That’s right.

 

SANS: Mostly.

 

ANDREWS: I’m sorry—Sans, was it?

 

SANS: Yeah.

 

ANDREWS: Could you elaborate on that?

 

SANS: Well, none of us are really down here by choice.

 

PAPYRUS: But we’ve been happy enough to wait it out! Plenty of things to do!

 

ANDREWS: Is there?

 

SANS: Sure, we haven’t been stuck down here long. This time.

 

ANDREWS: Good Lord, do you mean to say you are trapped? And this has happened before?

 

PAPYRUS: Yes, but it’s for our own good this time. And now that the hole has reappeared, it shouldn’t be long until we can come out again!

 

FRISK: It’s difficult to explain.

 

ANDREWS: I understand. It must be a difficult time for you. But I know we would appreciate even the briefest explanation of what has happened here. We’ve received many varied tall tales in our research—

 

[Frisk laughs]

 

FRISK: Yes, I’ll bet you did.

 

ANDREWS: So any clarification would do wonders in our efforts to understand.

 

[Brief silence]

 

FRISK: Yes, alright.

 

ANDREWS: Thank you. Now, when you say that it’s ‘for your own good’...?  This isn’t coming from the sort of—of monster royals you mentioned, is it?

 

FRISK: No, it isn’t. And yes, it is for our own good.The monsters and humans both have had a deeply traumatic experience and require time to recuperate. The royals are amongst the worst affected by this, which is why I have come in their stead.

 

ANDREW: Could you elaborate on who did __ put you down there, then?

 

FRISK: Without intending to be rude, I don’t think you would believe my explanation even if you could understand it.

 

ANDREWS: I see. Getting back on track...could you tell us what life for you is like? Give us a typical day in the life of a monster.

 

SANS: Well, every morning we wake up with the sunrise—

 

PAPYRUS: Sans!

 

SANS: Heh.

 

PAPYRUS: Our lives aren’t that much different than yours, actually! We eat breakfast, we all do our jobs, we come home and relax. Just normal things. Although every monster is different. We all have our different traditions. 

 

FRISK: At the moment, everyone is focused on pitching in to rebuild Underground.

 

ANDREWS: Rebuild?

 

FRISK: Well, it’s only been a couple of years since we were sealed down here. It takes time to rebuild a civilisation practically from the ground up.

 

ANDREWS: I’m sorry, did you say ‘a couple of years’?

 

FRISK: Yes, that’s right. On the night of the Blood Moon’s eclipse.

 

[A brief pause]

 

ANDREWS: I apologise. You caught me off-guard. Our sources indicated that there hadn’t been any activity on the mountain for almost two decades.

 

[Silence from underground]

 

[Quiet murmurs from research team]

 

ANDREWS: The Blood Moon’s eclipse, you say?

 

FRISK: Yes…?

 

ANDREWS: There is someone here who remembers that phenomenon, though I can’t speak of it myself. Though, I must say, he hasn’t heard it talked about for a very long time.

 

FRISK: Around twenty years?

 

ANDREWS: Indeed.

 

FRISK: I thought that might be the case.

 

ANDREWS: But how could that be? How have you managed to stay undetected?

 

SANS: By being underground.

 

FRISK: Yes, we’ve...we haven’t even seen natural light for these past years. But for us—as we’ve said—it’s only been two years. I’ve suspected the magic used to seal us away might also have affected our perception of time.

 

ANDREWS: Again, I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you say magic?

 

[Whispers from underground, unintelligible]

 

PAPYRUS: Yes, monsters are—are made of magic. All of us use it to communicate, to perform our duties, and to simply live our lives. But it wasn’t—we didn’t—

 

SANS: It wasn’t monster magic that sealed us down here.

 

ANDREWS: But this is incredible! Real magic? Could you give us an example of this magic somehow?

 

PAPYRUS: Ahh…

 

[Brief whispers, followed by a hum of static]

 

ANDREWS: Goodness! My—my goodness, ladies and gentlemen, what I’m seeing right now is indescribable—

 

[Another silence, then another hum of static]

 

ANDREWS: I—I—I will certainly do my best, though! It is difficult to see through the darkness, but there are objects—orbs of light—dancing in thin air right in front of my eyes! They—they’re combining—forming a shape? It looks like—like a bone! Oh my goodness! Oh dear! 

 

[Laughter]

 

[A throat is cleared]

 

ANDREWS: Perhaps now would be a good time to take a short break. I rather think I need some time to compose myself after seeing something so—so—

 

SANS: Bone-chilling?

 

[Laughter]

 

ANDREWS: Yes, quite so. When we return, I’ll be asking more about our newfound friends! Thank you Frisk, Papyrus, Sans!

 

FRISK: Our pleasure.

 

PAPYRUS: Yes, I’m having quite a lot of fun, actually!

 

SANS: Yeah.

 

[Shuffling]

 

ANDREWS: As we stand under the bright moonlight this historic night, the atmosphere is one of humbled awe. This truly feels as though we have come to the cusp of a new era, one of human and monster fellowship. Thank you for joining us for part one, and we hope you will stay tuned for more shortly. This has been Peter Andrews for the BBC.

 

[Music fanfare plays]

[END OF TRANSCRIPT, PART ONE]

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, ladies and gentlemen! 
> 
> I just wanted to take a second to appreciate you guys. Each and every one of you that made it to this point has given me the motivation and opportunity to finish something that was very close to my heart. Even though I look back on this with critical eyes, knowing what could have been and what my original intentions might have been, I still love it unashamedly. Because if nothing else, it was an amazing journey to have taken from start to finish, and if it wasn't for all of you, I wouldn't have gotten past the gate.
> 
> So thank you.
> 
> I also want to give a sneaky thanks to my writing group on discord who encouraged and supported and helped me through all my bitching and moaning while writing this. Y'all didn't have to care, but you did. Love you guys.
> 
> I love all you guys.
> 
> So now that Moths is officially done, I just wanted to say that for those of you who don't understand something--be it a plot point or description or just what the hell happened in the Chaos Spaces--feel free to ask for clarification! I went into this style knowing that it wasn't going to be an easy read, and so I want to make it as accessible as I can for everyone. Summaries and CW are still on their way for every chapter (currently up to 19 as it stands) but until those are out, if you have a question, ask! I'll happily explain.
> 
> Well. That's all for now, folks! Looks like I'll see you when I see you!
> 
> <3
> 
> Sunrise...sunset. Sunrise...sunset. Swiftly fly the tumblr years.  
> [ tellcosy.tumblr.com (18+) ](http://tellcosy.tumblr.com)  
> ~*~  
>  **CW AND SUMMARY**
> 
>  **General Content Warnings:** Talk of being trapped
> 
>  
> 
> **For those of you not wanting to read the chapter for any reason, summary is:**
> 
>  
> 
> A reporter opens up his report talking about researching Mount Ebott and its significance. A hole has opened up again where there was none before. Frisk, Papyrus, and Sans are being interviewed about who they are and why they are down in Underground. They speak of the fact that they are sealed down there and through the reporter, realise that their perception of time underground is much slower. For them it has been two years; for the reporters, around twenty. The brothers show off magic to the reporter, who is startled and delighted to see it, and requests they all take a short break in order for him to gather his thoughts. The report ends on a happy note, speaking of the feeling of a new era in which there is a fellowship between humans and their newfound neighbors, the monsters.


End file.
